


The Sufferer In Santa Fe

by WinterOcelot



Series: The Hunter and the Demon [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Hunter Jesse McCree, M/M, Magic, Monster Hunter AU, Relatively explicit sexual content, Vampire Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 65,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterOcelot/pseuds/WinterOcelot
Summary: Monster hunter Jesse McCree and his partner Hanzo the Shimada demon are back home in Santa Fe after a lengthy hunt in Australia. They barely get any respite when something alarming comes up in their area.





	1. The First Drop

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 4 of my little series here! Back in New Mexico, and back to Hanzo's perspective :p
> 
> It's been a difficult month, so I'm ridiculously grateful to everyone that leaves kudos and comments on all of my work
> 
> **And as per the last major edits with parts 1 and 2, I will be marking sex scenes with this:** !~*~!
> 
> So if you want to skip passed it, just ctrl + F and find the second thingy
> 
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________

The demon slinks through the small ranch-style house; he’s back in familiar territory. He moves near silently on bare feet, pushing forward slowly and cautiously. It’s then that he spots his prey – a tall, handsome monster hunter with broad shoulders and a wiry build. He’s dressed casually in a flannel shirt and boot cut jeans.

This is where he’ll need to proceed with caution; the hunter always seems to know when he’s being watched. He might know that he’s being watched now, but he can’t know where the demon is, or when he’ll strike.

He readies himself, tail curling in anticipation. The hunter seems completely oblivious, focussed on scrubbing down breakfast’s dishes. The demon is taking a risk here; sure, the hunter has been out of sorts lately, and might not know that he’s being hunted. Or, he is well aware, and is feigning ignorance to catch the demon off-guard. 

It’s a risk he takes – he leaps for the hunter, arms out to trap him in an embrace.

It’s while the demon is in mid-air that the hunter turns to face him with a tired expression. Upon seeing a demon leaping towards him, his expression shifts to surprise.

When Hanzo’s body makes contact with his hunter’s, he locks his arms firmly and looks into Jesse’s eyes.

“Got you,” he says smugly. 

Jesse chuckles heartily, then his face becomes equally smug. He grabs Hanzo’s bare waist – with wet, gloved hands.

Hanzo lets out a startled cry that quickly dissolves into laughter. He grabs Jesse’s wrists firmly, holding them as far away from his bare flesh as he can. Jesse laughs with him, bending slightly so that their faces are level. 

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Jesse,” Hanzo sighs, releasing his hunter and placing gentle hands on his face. “When will you talk to me about what bothers you?”

Jesse’s smile drops, and he looks away quickly. “Not now.”

Hanzo huffs. They’d been playing this game since dismantling the vampire network in Australia – and that was over a week ago. 

He feels guilty, like he should have talked with Jesse when they were still in Australia: when Hanzo had decapitated a vampire in front of him, and his voice became raspy and broken; when they had first discovered they were dealing with a network, and Jesse didn’t utter a single word until they returned to the wolf’s house; when they had met Damien and Leslie, who spoke of the violent manner in which they were turned, and Jesse became tense and unresponsive for a short while. And instead of checking on him, Hanzo had berated him. 

Unsure of what else to do, Hanzo decides to amuse them both.

“Did I ever tell you of the time Genji threw a crucifix at my head?”

Jesse turns to face him suddenly, eyes comically wide. 

“What?”

“It was after I had lectured him. Something about how he was disgracing the family name, most likely.” Hanzo leans in closer to his hunter. “Honestly, it was so unimportant, I do not even remember what it was about. But he stormed out of the room, and I wasn’t done with him. So I followed him out.”

Hanzo can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He drops his head onto Jesse’s chest, still laughing. Jesse laughs with him, pulling him into a hug. He’s careful not to let the damp gloves touch Hanzo’s bare skin this time. 

He inhales steadily, trying to keep his laughter at bay. “So I followed him, determined to get the last word, and I suddenly see a small piece of wood flying at my face. I ducked, but it bounced right off my head!”

“What did ya do?”

“I looked at what he had thrown at me, and we… we just stared at each other for a long while, and then we both started laughing.”

Jesse chuckles quietly, pulling Hanzo into a tighter hug. 

“I think you two will be alright.” He nuzzles Hanzo’s hair before continuing; “I think y’all need some time apart, but when y’all’re ready, it’ll be ok.”

Hanzo tucks himself into Jesse, pulling him closer. “You truly think so?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I really do.”

 

~~~~~~

 

The next afternoon, Hanzo lazes on the couch, his whole body stretched languidly across it. He’s reading one of Jesse’s old cowboy books that he had found in a pile of old paperbacks in the home office. He curls his tail lazily, wondering how the author of a Western novel could describe a ranch so poorly. Although he figures the layout of the ranch isn’t the focus of the book. Still, he definitely appreciates detailed descriptions of architecture and land. 

Jesse comes in after a quick smoke and saunters over to the couch. 

“Hey, hot stuff,” he drawls, eyeing the stretch of Hanzo’s body. “Whatcha readin’?”

“One of your cowboy books,” Hanzo replies easily. 

“Wait a minute,” Jesse whispers, eyes wide. He looks at the cover of the book, then sighs with relief. “Oh, it’s just that one.”

Hanzo’s brain works double time to process the new information.

“What do you mean, ‘just that one’? What other cowboy books do you have?”

“Oh, y’know… Jus’ the usual ones…”

But Hanzo’s already caught on. “Jesse, do you have cowboy erotica in your collection?”

“No.” He says it too quickly. And his eyes are too wide.

The demon sits up, closing the book and dropping it onto the coffee table. “Why am I reading this drivel when I could be reading cowboy smut?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that’s a classic!”

“Jesse McCree,” Hanzo growls, trying for intimidating, “give me the smut, or I will find it myself.”

“Good luck findin’ somethin’ I don’t have.”

Hanzo fixes him with a wicked smile, then launches himself at Jesse, grappling and trying to pin his arms behind his back. But Jesse grapples back. He manages to get Hanzo pinned on the couch, his arms and legs stuck straightened out – it makes his strength advantage completely useless.

Jesse grins at him slyly. Hanzo tries once again to wiggle his way free, but there’s no escape. Again, he’s underestimated Jesse’s skills as an accomplished hunter. He would stew over it and admonish his mistake, but he pushes these thoughts out of his head as he looks at Jesse’s smiling face – it’s the fullest smile he has seen on his hunter all week.

He smiles back at Jesse, then places a gentle kiss on his lips. “I will find that erotica. And I will read it.”

“Honey, no-”

“You could just hand it to me, then.”

“How ’bout I wear my hat the next time we do it?”

Hanzo’s eyes widen, and he can’t help the quick dart of his tongue to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Jesse grins at him again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he drawls. 

The demon lets out a rumbling growl, low and pleased. He nuzzles at Jesse’s neck. “I adore you, my pet. Even if you won’t share your smut.”

Jesse chuckles gently. He slowly moves his arms away, unpinning Hanzo carefully. Hanzo’s focus is on his hunter’s face – he’s coming back to himself. Slowly, but surely.

When Jesse realises Hanzo won’t retaliate and try to wrestle with him again, he moves more quickly, snuggling up against the demon and sighing peacefully. Hanzo growls low in his chest, content.

“Hanzo?”

“Mmm?”

“You purr, y’know?”

“What?”

The faint sound of a heavy car parking in front of the house catches their attention. And when they hear the frantic fiddling of keys, Jesse springs up and heads to the door, Hanzo following closely. 

_“Jessito!”_ It’s Clara. She comes running in, looking frazzled and out of breath. “Trouble on the plains. Wolves’re restless. They wanna talk to you. Now.”

“That don’t sound too good. C’mon, Hanzo.”

“Uh…” Clara looks at them both with wide eyes, her glance flitting back and forth between them. Hanzo doesn’t think he’s ever seen her at a loss for words before.

“What?” Jesse asks impatiently.

“I… I think Hanzo should stay here.”

“Clara, he an’ I are partners-”

“I know, I know! And it ain’t nothin’ against you, Hanzo.” She shoots the demon a quick, apologetic look before turning back to Jesse. “But they’re mighty spooked. Rambling about some demon that’s comin’ for them. An’ when people are spooked, they do stupid shit.” She looks to Hanzo. “I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to rattle the cage anymore if we can avoid it.”

Hanzo flicks his tail, irritated; she’s right, of course. If the local wolves are scared of demon activity, and they can smell when someone isn’t human, it would not bode well for Jesse if he were trying to talk them into calming themselves with Hanzo waiting in the car. 

“I’ll, uh. I’ll stay here with you if you like?” Clara says, rubbing the back of her neck absently. Hanzo turns to Jesse, who’s doing the same thing. It takes a lot of self-control not to start laughing whenever the two of them exhibit the same mannerisms at the same time. 

“Very well,” Hanzo says with an air of finality. “I will prepare some tea.”

“I, uh…” Jesse looks anywhere but Hanzo and Clara. “I better get my things.” And with that, he heads off to the bedroom. 

Hanzo takes his time filling the kettle, placing it on the stove, and then lighting the stove. When he’s done, he turns back to Clara. She looks agitated, her hand draped absently over her mouth while her eyes look distant and unfocused.

He approaches her slowly, but she starts anyway. She looks at him quickly, then drops her hand.

“Wolves don’ spook easy,” she says stiffly.

“I imagine they don’t,” Hanzo says in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. 

“An’ somethin’ has these guys real scared.”

Jesse interrupts them with a quick farewell. Hanzo stares wistfully after him, and Clara notices immediately.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sounds concerned.

“No. He’s just… not been himself.”

“Yup. Dealin’ with vampires does that to people.” She folds her arms slowly and deliberately, so Hanzo braces himself for an interrogation.

“Heard them assholes were livin’ off of human blood.” Hanzo nods distractedly in response, so Clara continues: “How’d they look?”

Hanzo thinks back to the nameless vampires at the gas station with their dark red eyes and pallid, veiny skin. And then to Tony, who looked so much worse, with shrivelled lips and deformed teeth. And then Garry and his mate, who were far beyond resembling anything human. 

“They looked like monsters,” Hanzo replies gravely. Clara just gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“That was a pretty extreme case. Don’ think he’s ever dealt with anythin’ like it without a team of hunters.”

The demon purses his lips and folds his arms across his chest. “I was under the impression that he took on most of his jobs alone.”

“Really? He’s always talkin’ about how he hunts with a team.” She huffs and plants her hands firmly on her hips. “If that li’l asshole has been lyin’ about fightin’ in a team fer our sake, I swear I’ll punch him right in the-”

The kettle whistles loudly, drowning out Clara’s threat. Hanzo moves quickly to remove it from the stove and prepare the tea. 

He stares blankly as the colours of the leaves seep into the water. His mind is racing: _Does Jesse actually hunt in teams with other hunters?_ The only other hunters that are his friends are the Amaris, and he’s mentioned very few hunts with them. _Perhaps Jesse just does not mention his team hunting exploits to me._ That would make sense, given that most of the larger hunts are organised to take out demon targets.

“Hey,” Clara says firmly. Hanzo looks up from the tea, snapped out of his thoughts. “We can cross-examine him later. Right now, we have to figure out what’s goin’ on with those wolves.” 

Hanzo lets out a snappy growl. “Good luck getting it out of him when this is over.”

Clara guffaws loudly. “You mad at that li’l turd fer not talkin’ shit out?”

Hanzo takes his mug of tea and sits down at the table with a disgruntled huff.

“Hit a nerve there, huh?” She walks to the bench and grabs her own mug, then joins Hanzo at the table. They sit in silence for a few minutes – a feat Hanzo didn’t believe Clara was capable of. It then occurs to him that she’s waiting for him to talk. 

He clears his throat. “Before we left for Australia, he would tell me all sorts of stories about the hunts he has been on. And now… he hardly talks at all.” Hanzo taps his claws against the ceramic of the mug, considering his next choice of words. “It is my fault; I thought he was moving too slowly with the investigation. I…” Hanzo sighs heavily and closes his eyes, “I accused him of being incompetent.”

Clara tuts good-naturedly, resting her face on her palm.

“I know. He later mentioned that he has been doubted his whole career. And I felt terribly about the whole incident.”

“Didja say sorry?”

“…Not with words.”

Clara gasps dramatically. “Hanzo, you nasty!” she teases. 

“It wasn’t like that either!” Hanzo laughs. 

“But y’all’re good?”

“I believe so. He is just very quiet.” Hanzo winds his tail around the chair leg, needing comfort. “Something is bothering him, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to confide in me.”

“Lemme tell ya somethin’,” Clara says as she straightens in her seat. Her fingers curl protectively around her mug, and her eyes drop to her hands. “When I hear a vampire screamin’, my blood boils; my body braces itself fer a fight to the death. Now, when a _human_ hears it, it scrambles their brains, brings ’em to their knees. So, yeah… y’might not have helped things by bein’ an asshole,” she looks at him cautiously as he throws her a sour look, “but honestly, he’s probably still on edge from dealin’ with monsters that are built to hunt humans.”

“…I suppose you’re right.”

“Damn straight I’m right,” she laughs. “That kid couldn’t hold a grudge to save his life. An’ he adores you – yer already forgiven, trust me.”

Hanzo lets out a heavy breath. He drums his claws along his mug, letting the rhythmic clinking calm his nerves. _He adores you._ He supposes it’s obvious, what with the way Jesse is so affectionate with him. But it’s something else to have that fact confirmed by someone that knows Jesse so well. 

He looks back to Clara, who is sipping her tea nonchalantly. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo says quietly. Clara shoots him a playful smile, and he knows she’s about to make a smartass comment, but she turns suddenly towards the door. Then Hanzo hears it, too – Jesse’s back.

“Let’s go see what’s up,” she says quickly, leaving half a mug of tea on the table. Hanzo follows suit, his mug still mostly full.

They both get to the front door as Jesse is exiting his truck.

“How’d it look?” Clara calls as she and Hanzo walk up to the truck.

“Not good. Somethin’ is _way_ off about this dead goat.” He pats the truck’s tray emphatically. It’s covered by a sheet of tarpaulin. “Angie’s comin’ over to look at it.”

“Y’mean ya brought that thing back here?” Clara snaps, her shoulders hunching defensively.

“May I see it?” Hanzo asks quickly.

“Sure.” Jesse scratches his beard, eyeing Hanzo curiously. “I ain’t all that familiar with rituals an’ the like. Maybe you can pick up on somethin’.”

Hanzo walks slowly towards Jesse’s truck. His hunter works the straps apart, then steps aside, and Hanzo lifts a tiny corner of the cover off the tray.

Already, something smells off. There’s the smell of fresh death; stale, but not yet rotting. And then there is the smell of Death; pulsing wounds, putrid breath, and the smell of permanently damp decay. Clara picks up on it, too, and she tenses even more.

“What?” Jesse looks at her, completely oblivious.

“That ain’t ‘dead animal’ stink.”

Hanzo lifts the cover further to get a look at the source of the smell. A dead goat lies there. Its skin looks shrivelled and delicate, like it has been preserved. “It looks to have been drained of its blood.”

“Nope,” Clara says quickly, “I can smell blood.”

“As can I. But look at it.”

“Rather not.”

“Clara,” Jesse sighs, “it ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Nope. Not goin’ anywhere near that freaky demon shit.” She then makes eye contact with Hanzo. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he chuckles. He turns back to the goat. It doesn’t smell like salt, or like embalming fluids, so it wasn’t shrivelled by those means. He turns to address Jesse.

“They did not mention anything about intentionally preserving this corpse?”

“Nope. They found ’er lookin’ like a mummy when she was alive an’ well jus’ yesterday.”

Hanzo turns back to inspect the goat, still at a loss. 

“Any ideas?” Jesse asks gently. 

“No,” Hanzo says evenly, covering the goat back up. “I’ve not seen anything like this when blood-letting isn’t involved. Perhaps we should just wait for Angela.”

“I’d say that’s a good idea.” Jesse turns to face his sister. “Clara? You gon’ wait around fer answers?”

“Nope. I am gettin’ myself as far away as possible from that thing.”

“Clara-”

“Besides, you’re on the case, so it’s in good hands.”

Jesse sighs, relenting. “Ok. I’ll keep ya updated. Let y’all know if there’s anythin’ to worry about.”

“Yep. See ya!” And with that, she climbs back into her truck and drives off.

Jesse places his hands on his hips. “Well, Angie said she’d be here soon, so we might as well wait out here.

Hanzo nods his agreement. Then something occurs to him:

“What did Clara call you earlier?”

“Huh?”

“It… sounded like ‘Jesse’, but not quite.”

_“Jessito?”_

“Yes! What does that mean?”

“Little Jesse.” He says it so matter-of-factly and casually, Hanzo feels like he’s missing something. He eyes his hunter questioningly, prompting an explanation.

“Uh, in Spanish, when ya put ‘ito’ at the end of somethin’, it becomes diminutive.” He then taps Hanzo on the head, highlighting their height difference. “Hanzito,” he says, smiling mischievously. 

“Jesse, I will bite you.”

“Mmmm,” his hunter hums, “can I pick where?”

Hanzo gives him a firm, but playful shove in response. Jesse laughs heartily.

It’s then that Angela arrives in her sports car. She parks quickly and jumps out, looking a little dishevelled. 

“I came as quickly as I could!” She moves swiftly to greet them both. “I would have imagined welcoming the two of you back would not involve jumping straight into another case.”

“Sorry, Angie. It’s kinda urgent.” And with that, he reveals the goat.

“Um.” Angela tilts her head, looking at Jesse in a very confused manner. “It looks like it has been preserved. Or it died and has been out in the sun.”

“That’s the thing – they say she was healthy an’ lively just yesterday.”

“Surely, that can’t be true…” She moves closer, but still looks to Jesse for permission to proceed. 

“Be my guest, doc. Ain’t nobody sure of what’s goin’ on here. You’re our best bet.”

She moves her hands over the goat, not touching the body. She then turns to Jesse and Hanzo. “I will need some space.”

Both the hunter and demon move back a respectful distance. Hanzo watches Angela closely as her hands move and hover over the animal. When she starts humming and talking under her breath, Hanzo inches closer to the truck, hoping to see witch magic in action. She stops rather abruptly when he’s a couple of steps to her left.

“Sorry Hanzo, but you’re disrupting the energies. I need my space.”

“My apologies.” He backs off, standing close to Jesse. _Interesting – witch magic relies on external energies._ Jesse nudges him gently.

“See anythin’ cool?” he whispers. Hanzo shakes his head. “Dang it. Y’got closer than I’m allowed.”

“Have you not seen witch magic before?” Hanzo asks, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. But only the really showy stuff. Not quieter spells like this.”

“That is more than I have seen,” Hanzo mutters quietly, still trying to catch a glimpse of Angela’s hands. Suddenly, the witch gasps and shudders, then she quickly covers the goat back up.

“Angie?” Jesse asks, moving to her side slowly.

She stands slightly hunched, hands gripping the truck’s tray tightly. It takes her a few more deep breaths until she speaks: 

“Soul extraction. Done quickly.” She speaks mechanically, watching Jesse uneasily with a sideways glance. 

“What does that mean?” Jesse asks slowly. His gaze flicks from Angela to Hanzo.

The demon then clears his throat, taking it upon himself to answer Jesse in Angela’s place: “If it is done quickly, it was not for a ritual or spiritual purpose. I was done for feeding purposes.”

Jesse’s face darkens considerably. “An’ what kind of creatures need life energy to survive?” 

“An undead,” Angela says quickly. A little too quickly for Hanzo’s liking. He catches his hunter’s eye, and they share a knowing look – _she knows more than she’s letting on._

“How ’bout we go inside? We can have a nice, long chat over some hot coffee?”

Angela closes her eyes and exhales heavily. She straightens, opens her eyes, and smiles weakly at Jesse. “I think that would be a good idea.”


	2. Zero Visibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demon and his hunter start another investigation/hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised I got this done in a week, because I spent so much time writing other chapters for this part hahaha!
> 
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________

The odd trio hover around the kitchen awkwardly: Angela sits at the table, wringing her hands in her lap; Jesse stands at the kitchen bench, hoping that his fierce stare will cause the coffee to brew faster; Hanzo sits across from Angela with his now lukewarm tea. 

The demon flicks his tail restlessly – he knows that Angela knows something important, but he can’t try to extract that from her. Firstly, because she’s one of Jesse’s closest friends, and his hunter would never forgive him for being rude and threatening. Secondly, the witch is already quite shaken up; if he agitates her further, she will most likely clam up, and then they won’t be getting any useful information from her at all. 

Jesse interrupts Hanzo’s thoughts by handing Angela her coffee. He claims Clara’s half-finished tea.

“Ok,” Jesse says as he settles himself into his seat, “let’s start at the beginnin’ – what could we be dealin’ with here?”

“There are very few creatures with physical bodies that require exclusively spiritual sustenance.” Hanzo adjusts his grip on his mug before continuing. “I believe we should be asking this: does this creature _need_ to survive off of life energy, or is it choosing to, despite being able to survive off of other food sources?”

“I would assume it’s a necessity,” Angela pipes up, “else it wouldn’t have left the body to be found.”

“Right,” Jesse says, “it was desperate enough for a quick feed that it left the corpse in plain sight.”

“Or it is careless,” Hanzo adds.

“Or it wants to be found,” Jesse replies teasingly. 

Hanzo responds with a playful huff. “Either way, it is not likely to be a demon – they would rather seek human souls for sustenance.”

“I didn’t know ya knew about soul-eating,” Jesse says, giving Hanzo a rather curious look.

“Of course I do. I had a few great-uncles that refused to eat food – a real demon sustains himself on the souls of human beings.” Hanzo tilts his head, pursing his lips. “As you can imagine, they were hunted down rather quickly.”

“That don’t make any sense,” Jesse says, his brow furrowing, “a human soul should be more’n enough to sustain even a powerful demon fer a week.”

“Longer,” Hanzo corrects. “And once you realise that your powers are much more refined and honed when on a steady diet of life energy, you become greedy. My uncles tried for feasting every day. Which is why they were caught so quickly.”

“But we are not dealing with a demon,” Angela says. Hanzo throws her a withering look, to which she responds with hands held up in surrender. “You said it yourself, Hanzo; a demon would look for human meals, not animal meals.”

It takes one disapproving look from his hunter for Hanzo to swallow his frustration and his pride. _She knows exactly what we’re dealing with. But we can get information from her without being intimidating._ The main problem with this tactic is that Hanzo had gotten so used to snapping and growling and putting on a show. It has been quite a while since he’s had to do the whole diplomacy thing.

For Jesse’s sake, he can play nice. But he will not abide being treated like an idiot.

“So it is not a demon, but an undead creature.” Hanzo shifts his gaze to Jesse. “Where do we begin with those?”

“Ghouls are _technically_ undead,” Jesse says with a vague hand gesture, “but they need flesh to survive – not life energy. Same deal with _draugar.”_

“Definitely not a _draugr,”_ Angela says firmly. “They can only survive in colder climates.”

“Thank God,” Jesse says quickly under his breath. He begins ticking possibilities off on his fingers. “Not a lich, ’cause they need human souls. Not a wraith, or a poltergeist, ’cause they get their sustenance from fear an’ anger.” He pauses, looking at his hand. “Could be a wight.”

Hanzo watches Jesse and Angela share an uneasy glance. He feels quite uneasy himself – he’s not heard of _draugr_ or wights. He’ll ask Jesse for a quick lesson once Angela has left.

“I think it’s fair to assume we are dealing with a wight,” Angela says, exasperated. “That means we’ll need protective charms, trap spells-”

“Hanzo and I will take care of that,” Jesse says firmly. 

“But… but the incantations you need-”

“Angie, ya got enough on yer plate. I got plenty of charms ready, and I can make pretty decent protections.” He offers Angela a gentle smile. “Been doin’ this fer 20 years now, remember?”

The witch looks to Hanzo, then back to Jesse. Finally, she sighs in resignation. “Ok. Just, be careful, you two.”

Hanzo stays silent. Jesse offers reassurances, promising to catch this undead quickly. Angela seems comforted by it, and she leaves the house with a gentle wave and a weak smile on her face.

When Hanzo hears her car’s rumbling engine fade, he jumps:

“She knows something.”

“I know.”

“And you are not bothered by it?”

“Honey, she’s a doctor. She’s jus’ careful with what she does an’ doesn’t say. If she’s keepin’ something from us-”

“Hn.” The demon folds his arms defensively.

“Ok, she _definitely_ is… but it ain’t out of spite – she has the best intentions.”

“What is that English saying about good intentions?”

Jesse sighs, frustrated. “Ok, Hanzo. You’ve made yer point. So whadda ya wanna do about it?”

“Ideally, we would wring it out of her.”

“Honey, no-”

“However,” Hanzo continues, undeterred, “seeing as that is not an option, our best bet is to set up these traps and monitor the area around where that goat was discovered. But first, I will need a quick lesson on wights.”

“Ok. You got it.” Jesse watches him with a tired expression. It then shifts to confusion when the demon sets the kettle on the stove again.

“I will need hot tea before you start your lesson.” He then reaches into the cupboard and removes one packet of Iced VoVo biscuits. “I will also need these.”

“Jaime should not have told you that you could take those home with you…”

 

~~~~~~

 

They lie in bed together that night, their backs to each other.

Hanzo’s mind is racing. He’s furious that something this severe has come up so close to home, especially since they had just returned from literally the other side of the world. And just when Jesse was getting back to his usual self. 

And wights sound extremely unpleasant; undead creatures were unpredictable enough, but one that retains its memories, as well as its ability to think and plot is so much worse than one that is mindless and erratic. 

He puts his storming thoughts on hold and listens to Jesse behind him; he’s breathing as if he were awake, but he hasn’t commented on Hanzo’s stewing like he normally does.

When they find out what this creature is, Hanzo will personally tear it limb from limb.

!~*~!

It’s then that Jesse turns around and wraps an arm around Hanzo. The demon rumbles, pleased. He moves into the touch, pressing his body against Jesse’s. He feels a very particular hardness against his rump.

“I can feel that,” Hanzo purrs in a sultry fashion.

“Huh?” Jesse mumbles. “Oh, sorry. ’M real sleepy.”

 _Sleepy?!_ Is this a joke?

“…You do not want me to do anything about it?” Then, embarrassingly desperate: “I will do all the work.”

“Naw,” Jesse replies with a half sigh, half yawn. “You always do all the work.”

Hanzo gets up and out of bed abruptly. Jesse makes a sad little confused noise, but Hanzo ignores it – he rummages through Jesse’s clothes, and finds exactly what he’s looking for. 

He exits the wardrobe and throws a blue flannel shirt at his hunter’s face. It lands perfectly. 

Jesse sits up, letting the shirt fall into his lap. He looks up at Hanzo questioningly, and it’s then that Hanzo flings Jesse’s hat at him. 

“You made me a promise, did you not?” He saunters over to the bed slowly, eyes never leaving Jesse’s. “Get ready to go for a ride, cowboy.”

His hunter’s face brightens with a marvellous smile before it turns sultry and teasing. _Success._ His Jesse is back.

He slaps the hat onto his head and puts on the shirt. When he starts buttoning it up, Hanzo crawls over to him, halting his movements.

“Leave it undone,” he rumbles, nuzzling his hunter’s chest and peppering the hairy skin with kisses. 

Jesse’s hands suddenly grab his face. He runs his thumbs across Hanzo’s cheek bones, and he hunches so that their faces are level. 

He gives the demon a soft smile, then kisses him passionately. Hanzo responds quickly.

His hunter holds him tightly, deepening their kisses. Hanzo lets out a long, low, rumbling growl, feeling at ease. It’s then that Jesse flips them. 

Hanzo laughs freely as Jesse presses their bodies together. His hunter kisses along his neck and down the column of his throat, along his collar bones and down his sternum. Jesse sits up, looking at Hanzo gently. Hanzo sits up, chasing his hunter, but Jesse pushes him flat onto his back. 

“I’m in charge of this rodeo,” he chuckles with a wink.

Hanzo supposes that’s fair. And it’s worth it to see his hunter’s face full of life and mischief. 

“Hey, I’d, uh… I’d like to try somethin’?”

“Of course, my pet,” Hanzo purrs, tracing gentle patterns on Jesse’s thigh. 

He turns red, an embarrassed smile on his face. He reaches for his draw quickly, only just reaching the knob and pulling it open. Hanzo watches curiously as Jesse reaches in and extracts what he was after – a bottle of lube.

Hanzo eyes the bottle harshly. “I do not understand why you humans enjoy that rubbish so much.” 

“Huh?”

“It is cold, and messy, and it gets everywhere-”

“Easy there,” Jesse chuckles, holding the bottle close to his chest, “not everyone can have magical spit, y’know?” 

Hanzo doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he props himself up on his elbows, ready for a show. 

He watches with rapturous delight as Jesse opens himself up. He’s watched other men do this, watched as they pouted and moaned, and put on an exorbitant display just for him. But none of them had smiled as they watched him watch them. None of them had winked and smirked playfully like Jesse does now. 

“Should you not be focussing on the task at hand?” Hanzo teases.

Jesse laughs lightly. “I know what I’m doin’.”

“You do not want any assistance?”

“Damn, yer chatty tonight,” Jesse chortles. “You feelin’ alright?”

 _I am happy that you are back to your normal self._ Instead, he says “you are having all the fun without me.” He pouts playfully, swishing his tail.

“Be patient, sugar. I’m just about done.” He huffs out a tiny moan, and his whole body shudders quickly. He withdraws his hand from behind himself with a quiet gasp. “Ready when you are.”

They get themselves aligned, and then the fun begins. His hunter bounces lightly, getting into a steady rhythm. Hanzo holds firmly onto his solid thighs, those heavy muscles straddling him perfectly. He pushes up gently with every one of Jesse’s downstrokes. 

The demon’s eyes travel all over his hunter, taking in everything he adores about this man: his huffing, pouty face when he’s being slammed into; his heaving chest dusted with dark hair; his large, solid arms; trim waist with the lightest layer of fat. 

And that’s just everything above the waist. Which is all the demon can focus on right now, given that Jesse is wearing Hanzo’s favourite flannel shirt, and his battered cowboy hat. 

He feels compelled to sit up and reach for something, anything. _Fuck it,_ he thinks. He pushes himself upright, grabbing at Jesse’s chest. But his hunter pushes him back down firmly.

“Nope,” Jesse teases with a smile.

“Let me touch,” Hanzo laughs, trying again to sit up, and this time managing to pinch a nipple before being pressed flat to the bed. 

“Better behave yerself, or I’ll need to teach you a lesson.”

Hanzo purrs deep and low. “Will you, now?”

Jesse rises to the bait; he plants his hands firmly on Hanzo’s shoulders so that the demon can’t grab at him. _The crafty bastard._ He then rides Hanzo roughly, grinding hard with every downstroke just the way he likes it.

He can feel himself getting close, and he tries to hold on. He reaches clumsily for Jesse’s arms, given that it’s all he can reach, and he pushes his hips up harder and faster, wanting Jesse to come undone with him.

They manage to finish together, moaning loudly and panting heavily. He feels more than sees his hunter empty himself all over his belly and chest. He then feels Jesse’s heavy weight press down on him. 

Without even thinking, Hanzo’s hand automatically tangles in Jesse’s hair. He runs his clawed fingers through it, trying to keep his mind off the inevitable clean-up. He pushes Jesse’s hat off his head so he can better play with his hair.

!~*~!

He’ll need to clean them up soon. But when Jesse sighs contentedly right beside his ear, he decides that they can both bask in the afterglow for a bit longer. And Hanzo can indulge in having his Jesse back.

 

~~~~~~

 

The next morning, the duo are up with the sun, much to Hanzo’s chagrin. He’s fully dressed and on his second mug of tea when Jesse pulls out a large, heavy box from one of the cupboards with cleaning supplies. He places it carefully on the kitchen table and opens it up gently.

Hanzo can’t contain his curiosity; he rises from his chair and looks into the box with wide eyes. In it are what look like hundreds of tiny trinkets wrapped in bubble wrap. The wrapping is so thick, he can’t see what lies within.

“Charms,” Jesse says excitedly. “Small objects with protective spells weaved into ’em. A few witches I’ve worked with have sent me some, an’ quite a few of these are Angie’s, ’cause she always picks really good items, like animal bones, or pieces of maple wood.”

“Good items?”

“Yeah. Witches are very closely aligned with the natural world. So a spell bound to a leaf is gon’ be more powerful than one bound to, say, a teaspoon.”

“I didn’t realise witch magic relied _that_ heavily on external energies.”

“Yup. ’S all about connectin’ with Mother Nature.” He reaches into the box, picking an object at random. He unwraps it gently, revealing a cicada’s shell. “See, while this’ll be pretty powerful, it’s too delicate.”

“May I?” Hanzo asks, holding his hand out. Jesse deposits the charm in its wrapping into his hand. It feels warm against his palm, and its smell is fresh and reassuring. He moves to touch it, wanting the comfort that the protective spell offers, but Jesse stops him.

“Uh, I don’t know how to say this nicely, but… uh…” Jesse’s eyes flit away from his face, and he starts rubbing his beard in an agitated fashion. “Demons tend to corrupt this kinda stuff.”

“Oh,” is all Hanzo manages to say. It makes perfect sense, given that demons harness energy so readily from pain and suffering. But it was still a slap in the face to hear that his touch alone would spoil the charm. His eyes drop, and he looks at the charm sadly.

“Oh, sweetheart-”

“No, it’s… it is fine.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything else; he removes the charm from Hanzo’s hands, places it on the table, then wraps his arms around the demon. 

Hanzo allows himself to be held, tucking his face in between Jesse’s chin and collar bone. “Really, Jesse; I’m fine.”

“Honey, yer little face just dropped an’ it broke my heart.”

“I just… wanted to touch it. It was a foolish thought.”

“Hanzo-”

“No, it makes sense.” He dislodges himself from Jesse’s crushing hug and pulls back so he can look at his hunter’s face. “Witch magic is sensitive to external energies. Demons give off external energies. So, it would stand to reason-”

“Ok, smarty-pants,” Jesse teases. He adopts a gentle smile. “Jus’ don’ go takin’ it personal.”

Hanzo tucks himself back into his hunter, and allows himself to be held a little bit longer.

Eventually, the two of them head out to the wolves’ property. Jesse warns him that these are true wolves, not like Jaime, who is reasonably well-adapted to a human lifestyle. That means that they’ll bark and growl loudly, but as long as they don’t roar or snap their jaws, they should be safe.

When they arrive, a large man with dark skin and startlingly golden eyes approaches the car. He glares at Hanzo fiercely while he barks at Jesse in what Hanzo assumes is Spanish. Jesse replies easily, introducing the wolf to Hanzo. He then turns and whispers to Hanzo in English “this’s the pack leader, Guillermo. Told him we’re partners.”

Hanzo looks at Guillermo uneasily, not quite used to being in his natural skin around other supernatural creatures. The pack leader shoots him a quick huff, then raises his chin in a rough gesture. Just as quickly, he turns away and stomps off to join the rest of his pack.

“Was that… good or bad?” Hanzo asks, dreading the answer.

“Good. If a wolf bares their throat, yer in the clear.”

And with that, the duo move carefully around the wolves’ property. The wolves watch the two of them closely. Hanzo notices their golden eyes (very similar to Jaime’s) and the agitated manner in which they glance at Hanzo and then back at each other with quick growls and grunts. _Definitely true wolves – not at all like humans._

Jesse pulls him out of his thoughts by handing him worn leather gloves. 

“This way you can touch the charms,” he says quickly, “get this thing done faster.”

Hanzo puts on the gloves, and the two of them get to work, setting up charm clusters; three charms are placed closely together, and Jesse whispers over them while sprinkling the cluster with crushed dried leaves from the wolves’ territory. This supposedly protects the property from uninvited supernatural intrusion.

When they get to the last cluster, Hanzo holds a hand up.

“Should I step outside of the ring?”

Jesse chuckles. “Naw, this barrier keeps out soul-eaters specifically. When was the last time you ate a soul?”

Hanzo sets his mouth in a grim line. _When the Shimada demons ruled Hanamura._ Instead, he responds with “A very long time ago.”

Jesse’s eyes widen, but he says nothing else on the matter. He shifts his focus to sealing the property with the last charm cluster. When they’re all done, Jesse finds Guillermo, and they exchange some words. Or, more accurately, Jesse speaks while the wolf barks and gesticulates wildly. 

When they get back to the car, Hanzo asks if most werewolves talk like that.

“Yeah, wolves’re funny like that.” He looks thoughtfully at his hands. “Jaime was a lot like that when I met him.” 

“Hn. I am not surprised.”

The drive home is relatively quiet, and the next three days they spend waiting to hear back from the wolves are even quieter. Jesse becomes restless and fidgety, pacing around his property and chain smoking. Hanzo watched him dismantle and clean his revolver twice in one evening. 

On the fourth day, Jesse sits upright on his couch, staring resolutely at the wall. Hanzo has had enough.

Hanzo stands in front of Jesse with his hands planted on his hips. “We are going out for lunch.”

Jesse doesn’t even meet his eyes. “Nope. Gotta wait fer a phone call.”

“Can you not receive phone calls outside of your house?”

“I can, but-”

Jesse’s ringing phone interrupts them. His hunter checks the screen.

“Guillermo,” is all he says, and he answers the call with urgent Spanish. Hanzo doesn’t understand the wolf on the other end, but he sounds more agitated than normal. All it takes is for Jesse to shoot upright and race to their room for Hanzo to follow suit and get himself ready.

They race over there, the both of them in their battle gear. 

Guillermo meets them at the car and walks them to the destroyed trap. It has been torn to shreds by what looks like multiple bullets.

“Why would they need to shoot it so many times?” Hanzo asks uneasily.

“It’s only one shot,” Jesse says hoarsely. “That’s shotgun spray.”


	3. Sudden Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here!!! I hope you enjoy <333
> 
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________

Hanzo sits at the kitchen table with tea and Iced VoVos, tail flicking haphazardly. Jesse’s on the phone to anyone he can get in touch with regarding an undead with a shotgun. Or an undead with any kind of gun – apparently it’s not a common occurrence.

He’s currently talking to Fareeha, running through all possibilities of what they might be dealing with. 

_"Uh oh,"_ Hanzo hears from the phone, _"Mom’s giving me that look. Jesse, she’s giving me the look."_

“I’ll see y’all soon, then,” his hunter responds quietly. He ends the call and stands silently with his metal hand on his hip and his flesh hand holding his phone with a white-knuckled grip.

Suddenly, Jesse drops his phone roughly onto the table. “I need a smoke,” he growls, storming outside.

Hanzo glances at the phone. He’s left it unlocked. And he has his messaging app open. 

“No,” Hanzo whispers to himself firmly as he reaches for the phone. But once he sees that one of the more recent messages are from Genji, all hope of putting it back down is gone.

The last few messages sent make little sense (something about a psychic or clairvoyant Genji has befriended in Nepal), so Hanzo scrolls up to earlier messages for some context. His heart does a little flip in his ribcage when he sees one of the messages Jesse has sent:

_‘So… heard u have good aim’_

Hanzo stares at that one message, tail flicking back and forth. His eyes eventually move down the screen.

_‘Lol! What has Hanzo told you?’_

_‘Somethin bout a crucifix_  
 _smackin him on his pretty_  
 _lil head’_

_‘WAHAHAHAHAHAH! oh my  
god i didnt think he wud tell  
you about that!’_

_‘So it IS true??’_

_‘Totally! oh man, i was prepared  
for my life to end then and there.  
but it was too funny!’_

Hanzo’s grip tightens on Jesse’s phone. He could stop reading here. He could scroll back down to their recent messages and Jesse would be none the wiser. But he can’t; he feels physically incapable of putting the phone down and walking away. He misses Genji so much. Just reading messages that are obviously from him puts a smile on his face.

_‘Yeah he couldnt retell the  
story without crackin up’_

_‘Omg typical Hanzo. cant even tell a  
joke without laughing thru it. he’s  
hopeless!_

_‘Jesse, I really miss him._

Hanzo finds himself hunched over and breathing heavily. _He misses me. He actually misses me._ His eyes begin to sting, and his breathing grows more ragged, but he reads on:

_‘Like, he’s an asshole and he tried to  
have me killed, but he’s my bro.  
i miss him heaps.’_

_‘I get it. Me and my sis didnt get_  
 _along when we were kids._

_‘Like, we tolerated each other,  
but that was about it._

_‘Wasn’t until I left for a few years_  
_to train as a hunter that I started  
missin her like crazy._

_‘Like, yeah, I’d miss my mom_  
_and dad coz they always had_  
_my back 100%, but I really_  
_missed Clara. And I wasn't sure_  
_why coz we were always_  
_fightin_

_‘Soon as I moved back in, we were  
best friends._

_‘I think we just needed some time_  
_away from each other. And some  
good distance between us haha_

_‘You and Hanzo will be fine. Just_  
_dont rush it. y’all will know when_  
_its time for you to see each other_  
_again.’_

He can’t see the latest messages through his tears. He puts the phone down and leans heavily against the table, resting folded arms on it. When he hears Jesse returning from outside, he buries his face in his arms.

“You are the worst snoop,” Jesse chuckles.

Hanzo growls sadly, the rumble filling his chest. “I miss him so much. And I can’t believe he misses me. I thought… I thought he would hate me, and would never want to see me again.”

Jesse sits beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think Genji has it in him to hate anyone.”

“Hn.”

“Anyway, got the Amaris comin’ over soon. They want in on this.”

Hanzo looks up at his hunter. “But this is _your_ investigation.”

“Honey, this asshole knew to look out fer protective charms. An’ he blasted right through one. This is somethin’ big, and I’ll take all the help I can get. And better if it’s the Amaris offerin’ their help – I work well with those two.”

When Hanzo doesn’t offer a reply, Jesse kisses him gently on the forehead. “I’ll go put the kettle on.” And with that, his hunter gets up and busies himself. Hanzo stays seated, but he sits up, tapping the table distractedly with his claws. 

“Jesse.”

“Huh?” Jesse turns back to face him, a very full kettle in his hands.

“How… how many times have you hunted with the Amaris?”

His hunter looks upwards as he thinks. “First hunt I went on with Ana was when Gabriel was still around.”

“I mean with the both of them.”

“Oh. Well, they’ve only been workin’ together fer the past five years.”

Hanzo sits up straighter in his surprise. “Truly?”

“Yep. Ana never wanted Fareeha to follow in her footsteps. Didn’t want her joinin’ the military either.”

“So why did she-?”

“I talked her into it. It was somethin’ she really wanted to do. An’ the only reason Ana didn’t want her to, was to keep her safe.”

“She is a military-trained hunter who is well aware of all of the dangers out there, and instead of wishing for her child to learn how to fight-”

“Well, she did train Fareeha herself. Jus’ didn’t want her huntin’, or joinin’ the army.” He places the kettle gingerly on the stove and turns back to face Hanzo. “Besides, Ana’s allowed to be protective – Fareeha is all she has. When I left to train as a hunter, my family all had each other. Pharah’s the only family Ana has.”

Hanzo thinks on that while Jesse flicks the stove on. It still doesn’t make sense to hide someone away from the world to protect them.

His thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knocking, which is followed by a loud banging, which is closely followed by harsh whispering.

“That’ll be them,” Jesse laughs, heading to the door. Hanzo rises, taking a deep breath. He hears Fareeha approaching while Ana and Jesse chat at the door.

“Hey, Hanzo!” She greets him with an enthusiastic hug. When he returns the hug, then eyes her with a confused expression, she shrugs with a playful smile. “You’re part of the family now.”

She pulls out the chair next to his and sits down, her back dead straight and shoulders back.

Jesse and Ana enter the kitchen just as the kettle begins to whistle. 

“I will tend to that,” Ana says, waving at Jesse with a shooing motion, “go sit down.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jesse giggles.

“So what’s the deal?” Fareeha pipes up, looking at Jesse, then Hanzo, who slowly moves back into his seat.

“Some soul-eater is freakin’ out the local wolves,” Jesse supplies. “This thing got its claws on one of their goats. Poor li’l thing was sucked dry.”

“A soul-eater? That does not sound good.” Ana deposits a fresh mug of coffee in front of Jesse and sits down comfortably with a mug of tea.

“We haven’t seen the bastard up close yet, but we’re guessin’ it’s a wight. An’ it’s smart – blew right through one of the protective charms we set up.”

Ana sips her tea quietly, her single eye watching Jesse closely. Fareeha’s fists clench slightly, and her eyes drop. 

“Will the wolves be ok?” Fareeha asks, looking at her hands.

“Yup. Set up a new barrier, this one with salt crystals an’ holy water traps, and got ’em to agree to patrol the property with rifles.”

Fareeha looks up at Jesse. “Where’s your book?”

“In the office. Tall shelf.”

Fareeha bounces out of her seat and heads to the office. Ana looks at Jesse:

“Is she referring to that illustrated encyclopaedia you have?”

“I hope so – it’s my favourite book,” Jesse laughs.

“Oh?” Hanzo teases. “You prefer it over your cowboy books?”

Ana chuckles into her tea while Jesse fixes Hanzo with a stern look. Although, it’s not very stern given that he has a large smile on his face.

“You, hush! An’ they’re Western classics.”

“Are you talking about your cowboy books?” Fareeha asks as she re-enters the kitchen. She deposits a large, leather-bound book in front of Jesse. She holds onto a smaller one and sits back in her chair. His hunter ignores her teasing and opens the large book immediately, flicking pages frantically until he reaches what he was after – a chapter on undead troublemakers.

He skims over the pages, running a gentle finger along each page before slowly flicking to the next.

“Jesse,” Ana sighs, “that is a very old text. There won’t be anything about weapons-”

“There’s gotta be. I remember readin’ it a while ago.”

“And what did it say? ‘ _Draugar_ have been seen wielding farming tools’?”

 _There’s that word again._ “What is a _draugr?”_ Hanzo asks.

“Nordic zombies,” Fareeha says with a sly smile. Jesse starts laughing, and Ana shoots her a disapproving look. 

“That’s a real good way of puttin’ it,” Jesse chuckles.

“It is a crude way of putting it,” Ana tuts. She looks at Hanzo. “ _Draugar_ are reanimated corpses, more typical in Nordic countries and colder climates. They might not retain their memories from their first life, but in their second life, they are hell-bent on causing trouble and grief.”

“Ok, ok,” Fareeha sighs, “ _evil_ Nordic zombies.”

Jesse guffaws, and Hanzo can’t help but laugh as well. Ana is still unamused, and she shoots her daughter a sharp look before focussing again on her tea.

Fareeha smiles slyly, then opens the smaller book. The movement catches Jesse’s eye:

“Pharah, ya won’t find anythin’ in there.”

“You’ve never come across undead with weapons?”

“Nope.”

Fareeha shrugs. “I still like reading your accounts.”

“What?” Hanzo eyes the little book again. The leather binding is plain and unassuming, and there are no words embossed on it. 

“He keeps accounts of all of the hunts he’s been on.” She waves the book. “This is the undead edition.”

“Jesse?” Hanzo asks, but his hunter holds up a finger, reading a page carefully.

“Says here that wights are the most likely to utilise tools and weapons.” He looks up from the book, eyes flitting over each person seated at the table. “An’ they retain their memories. So say in their first life, they were trained in arms. They could theoretically pick up their weapon of choice in their second life. Also, wights have the finest motor skills out of the undead. Aside from reborn vampires, of course.”

“So we’re dealing with a wight.” Fareeha flicks through Jesse’s little book. “Ah, here’s a wight hunt dated… six years ago in Guatemala.”

“Ugh, that’s when I had to deal with some asshole client. Old, grumpy bastard.” His scowl turns into a smirk. “His daughter, on the other hand…”

“Jesse McCree, you did not.” Ana stares him down fiercely while Fareeha laughs. 

“And how did that hunt go?” Hanzo asks shortly, not wanting to dwell on the topic of his hunter’s past lovers.

Jesse shrugs. “Usual wight business – fella was wronged in his first life, so when he came back, he was out fer blood. Shut him down quick an’ easy.”

“Yep,” Fareeha confirms, “nothing out of the ordinary noted.” She flicks further in. “Five years ago, Al Ashkharah, Oman.” She meets Jesse’s eyes, a playful smirk across her lips. “Called in the Amaris for assistance.”

“I remember that one,” Ana says with a fond smile. 

“I remember the beaches,” Fareeha says dreamily.

“That’s right. We hit the beach when we were done.” Jesse winks at Hanzo. “Prettiest damn beaches. I’ll take you there someday.”

The demon smiles fondly. “I should like that.”

“Three years ago, Milan, Italy.”

“Oh, man,” Jesse drawls, “that was a good one. Got work done quick so I could play.”

“If you could please focus on the task at hand,” Ana says tiredly.

“Don’t want to hear nothin’ about fine Italian sausage, then?”

“You are a menace,” Ana grumbles. Next to her, Fareeha mouths at Jesse ‘tell me later’.

Hanzo feels uneasy. Sure, he knows that Jesse has an extensive sexual history (much like himself), but it still twisted his gut up thinking about his hunter being that intimate with anyone else. And he would have been intimate and sweet and gentle with all of his bed mates, unlike Hanzo with his previous exploits.

“Last year,” Fareeha continues loudly, still smiling, “Santa Fe. Wight and vampire team killing livestock to survive. Wait a minute… is this when you met Consuela?”

Hanzo stands abruptly, excusing himself with mumbled words. He heads outside, where the autumn breeze pushes his hair gently into his face.

He finds the hammock swaying half-heartedly in its usual spot. He sits carefully, not wanting to get stuck, or to fall flat on his face. 

He buries his face in his hands, his thoughts a swirling mess of ‘whys’ and ‘shouldn’ts’ – why does he let this bother him so much? That vampiress shouldn’t bother him so much.

But she does. Everyone mentions her. Even Jaime had heard of her.

He hears Jesse’s heavy steps, but he stares resolutely at his own feet.

“Hey,” his hunter says gently. Hanzo grunts in acknowledgement.

Jesse leans against a post, sighing heavily. “So I can’t help but notice ya get tense when anyone mentions the C-word.”

Hanzo can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He looks up and at his hunter, who has a weak smile on his face.

“I can’t help but feel like I am being constantly compared to her.”

I’ll tell ya right now that you ain’t nothin’ like her.”

“That reassurance will not stop your friends from mentioning her.”

Jesse sighs, long and low and heavy. His eyes drop, and his metal fingers tap the post he leans on, a clumsy rhythm played out by worn nerves.

“Honey, I…” his voice chokes off, his flesh hand running tiredly along his jaw while the metal one speeds up the drumming. “I told you, didn’t I? Relationships aren’t my strong suit.” The look Jesse gives him is pained and embarrassed. “I honestly don’ know how to handle anything that isn’t a one-night stand.

“An’ when I met Consuela, she seemed perfect. She was care-free, she wanted to stick around. She was so sweet with Ma, even though Clara hated her. An’ she… she made me realise what I wanted. I didn’t want to screw around anymore. I wanted to settle. Calm down. Take on fewer jobs so we could relax here.

“But she got bored right quick. Said a hunter had no business ‘settlin’ down’ and that I ought to look fer work more vigilantly. I just… I really wanted it to work out, an’ everyone thought it would. ‘Cept fer Clara, of course.”

Hanzo rises, walking slowly to his hunter. Jesse stops drumming against the post. 

“Is this why you were so nervous when you thought I was bored here?”

Jesse doesn’t reply, but the pained way in which he averts his eyes says everything. Hanzo feels it as an aching, stabbing sensation in his gut. He remembers the one time he considered leaving when Jesse was still recovering from his jet-lag. How close he was to ending up like Consuela, and how grateful he is that he didn’t.

“I just… ya didn’t come here under the best of circumstances. I mean, it was either ya follow me home, or I kill ya.”

“Jesse McCree,” Hanzo says, completely startled, “I am a proud demon from a powerful family – we lived by the code of death before dishonour. If I had any kind of problem with following you here, you would be dead.”

Jesse meets his eyes now. “Or you would be dead,” he says defensively.

“Right. You are a competent hunter and I have no doubt that you could have ended me quickly.”

“Wait, really?”

“Shush!” He places hands on his hips haughtily, looking at Jesse sternly. “Did you really think I came all this way out of a sense of duty? Purely because we made a deal?”

“Well, yeah.”

He covers his face with his hands. Tries not to scream. Remembers that Clara told him that Jesse needed things spelled out. So he steadies his breathing, uncovers his eyes, and stares resolutely at his hunter.

“Jesse, I was going to kill my brother. No, I slept with a _human_ so he would do it for me. That makes me _worse_ than a blood traitor. My death would have been the kindest thing, given what demons do to blood traitors.”

“Huh?”

Hanzo waves his hand in a vague gesture. “It matters not. The point I am making is this: I did not want death. Well, I did. But… I couldn’t. Not after you…”

Jesse watches him with an intense stare. He looks very close to tears.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, “what are you tryin’ to say?”

Hanzo loses his temper. He snarls and grabs Jesse by the shoulders, shaking him roughly.

“I love you, you idiot!” He says it entirely too loudly and with far too much aggression, but his point stands, and Jesse stares at him with wide, startled eyes, his mouth hanging open. When he says nothing in response, Hanzo releases him.

The demon stands silently with a scowl, feeling incredibly foolish. Until Jesse surges forward and traps him in a crushing hug. When he hears Jesse take in a shuddering breath, he hugs back.

They stand like that for what feels like ages, Jesse holding him tightly and trying to level his breathing, and Hanzo standing slightly dazed, rubbing Jesse’s back absently.

“Hanzo,” he huffs raggedly, “oh, sweetheart. I… I just-”

His phone rings, a medley of fast drums and screeching guitars, and it causes the both of them to jump. 

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake!” Jesse reaches into his pocket roughly and picks up the call without even looking at the screen. “Really, Pharah?”

 _“I can’t find the tea,”_ comes the surreptitious reply from the other end.

Hanzo just chuckles. He grabs Jesse’s metal hand as he heads back into the house. 

“Fareeha, I swear to God.”

When they get to the kitchen, they watch Ana trying to snatch the phone from Fareeha, who is holding Ana back with a chair.

“No, for real, Jesse. You have three different canisters here.”

“Fareeha, you _devil child!”_ Ana snaps.

“Hold on, I think Mom wants to talk to you.”

“Swell,” Jesse says, and both Amaris turn to face them. Ana recovers faster; quick as a whip, she snatches the phone from Fareeha’s hands.

“You have lost your phone privileges for the rest of the month.”

“Mom! I’m _thirty-two!”_

Jesse’s phone starts ringing again. “Uh oh. It’s Guillermo.”

He answers the call, and he talks at length. Everyone else resumes their seats and wait silently for Jesse to finish. Hanzo listens attentively, not understanding a word of it, but finding the different cadence of Jesse’s voice fascinating. Very different to the rhythm he has with his Southern drawl, and again very different to the staccato pace of his Japanese.

“You are not practising your Spanish,” Ana tuts when Jesse ends the call.

Hanzo tilts his head quizzically. “It sounds fine to me.”

“How many Spanish-speakers have you heard, though?” Fareeha teases.

“Hey, my Spanish is passable,” Jesse grumbles. “An’ how many Spanish-speakers have _you_ heard, Pharah?”

“Your mom and your sister.”

“Clara speaks Spanish?” Hanzo asks.

“Fluently,” Ana clucks like a proud mother. Jesse throws her a petulant look.

“Don’t listen to them, Jesse,” Hanzo coos playfully, “your Spanish is fine.”

“Thanks, sweet pea.” His phone pings, and he checks it. “One photo attachment,” Jesse announces. It pings again. “Two.”

“Did they get a photo of it?” Fareeha asks, sitting even straighter in her chair.

“Apparently,” Jesse says, eyes stuck on his phone screen. “Some of Guillermo’s scouts got photos of it hangin’ jus’ outside the property. Prolly bein’ careful with the traps we set.”

He huffs impatiently. “Well, this is a pretty shit photo. An’ so’s this one.” Another ping. “Dang, all I’m lookin’ at is dense forest an’ a tiny bit o’ black smoke.”

“Black smoke?” Ana asks quickly. Her eye is wide and is focussed sharply on Jesse. “Let me see those.”

Jesse hands her the phone cautiously.

“Oh, dear,” Ana whispers. “I had my suspicions, but these photos confirm it; we are dealing with an entity that calls himself the Reaper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I wrote Fareeha as a real troublemaker because she is canonically a metalhead, and I dunno what it is with us metalheads, but we just like to stir shit up...
> 
> And now it's official - the wight is actually Reaper! Now I can add him in the tags :P
> 
>  
> 
> Also, html-ing those texts was a nightmare lol. Remind me to never do that again D:


	4. Ready To Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in less than a week! And it's an extra long chapter, too!
> 
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________

“I first came across the Reaper five years ago after I came out of hiding.” Ana pauses, then daintily grabs an Iced VoVo, holding it carefully in agile fingers. “I had heard of him beforehand, but I came face-to face with him a year later when I was investigating a mercenary gang of wolves in Cairo. Apparently, the Reaper came to investigate it himself.

“He can materialise into smoke and move about swiftly. So he appeared right behind me when I was in position and caught be by surprise. It came to blows, and I managed to subdue him, but he disappeared.”

“So he prefers close combat,” Hanzo mutters. “It makes sense, given that his weapon of choice is a shotgun.”

“What else can ya tell us?”

“He can heal himself,” Ana says shortly.

 _“What?”_ Jesse growls.

“Give him enough time, and he will regenerate any damaged flesh.”

“So it’s not a wight, then,” Fareeha states. Her playful mood is gone, replaced by her military demeanour. “If it can heal itself, and it can teleport by turning into smoke, what exactly is it?”

“Whatever he is, he is definitely undead,” Ana mutters gravely.

Jesse rubs his jaw absently. “So what’s his shtick? What’s he doin’ runnin’ around an’ investigating mercenary gangs?”

“That, I don’t know,” Ana confesses, “but from what I have heard of him, he acts as an assassin, with his targets being shredded by shotgun spray.” She eyes her biscuit with a determined glare. “He is dangerous, and we must proceed with caution.”

“Can we trap him?” Hanzo asks.

“I set up salt an’ holy water traps-”

“No, I do not mean something that sprays at you when you walk passed it. I mean proper traps that hold and immobilise.”

The three hunters look to each other uneasily.

Hanzo lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I am well aware of demon traps and how they work. Surely if you can specialise a trap to hold a demon at bay, there would be one for undead creatures as well.”

“Theoretically, it’s possible.” Fareeha meets his gaze. “But we don’t know what the Reaper is. Those kinds of traps are generally specialised depending on different things, like,” she holds out a hand, counting off fingers: “one: is it from this realm, like vampires and shapeshifters? Two: was it once human? And three: is it corporeal, or non-corporeal?” 

“…I see,” Hanzo says, disappointed. “And there is no general trap for creatures that are not strictly human?”

“Uh,” Jesse says, “not really. No. ’S a lot easier with demon traps, ’cause all ya gotta do is draw a pentagram, make some scribbles at each point-”

“It is a lot more complicated than that,” Hanzo grumbles. Jesse throws him a sly smile.

Fareeha speaks up again, while Ana munches on her biscuit. “Our best bet would be to weaken the Reaper with the salt and holy water traps.”

“But how do we guarantee he does not shift into smoke and drift away?” Hanzo asks.

“I’m guessin’ shiftin’ form like that takes energy. An’ if he’s weak, he won’t be able to escape so easy.”

“Agreed,” Ana says curtly. “The best plan of action is to weaken him sufficiently, then capture him for an interrogation.”

Hanzo tilts his head. “This creature is dangerous, and actively seeks out targets to murder. Why do we not take him out immediately?”

“That ain’t how we roll.”

Hanzo wants to argue, but then he remembers that the only reason Genji is still alive is because these hunters don’t go straight in for the kill. He chooses instead to stare broodily at his mug of tea. 

“In any case,” Fareeha says, “this Reaper character seems to be insistent on tormenting this pack. Perhaps someone has organised a hit on one of the pack members. We should see if they will allow us to camp on their property, or nearby to keep an eye on things.”

“Well, Guillermo already agreed to have me an’ Hanzo move in. I’ll give him another call an’ see if he’s good to have you two there as well.”

“That would be wise,” Ana says primly. “In the meantime, shall we begin packing our things?”

“Might as well,” drawls Jesse. “I don’ see why he’d turn more hunters away when his pack’s in danger. Lemme give him a call.”

And so Ana and Fareeha help Hanzo gather Jesse’s camping supplies and load them into his truck while Jesse speaks with Guillermo. They grab two tents, four sleeping bags, four camping chairs, and two thick mats to go under the sleeping bags. They throw them easily the truck’s tray. Hanzo grabs Jesse’s exercise shorts and flannel shirts… just in case. He stuffs them into one of Jesse’s duffel bags, which also gets thrown haphazardly into the truck’s tray.

Both teams prepare to head out to the wolves’ property. Fareeha and Ana stand by their car. “We’ll follow you guys up there!”

Jesse gives Fareeha a quick nod as he and Hanzo get in the car. When they’re on their way, Hanzo asks Jesse how long they plan on staying camped on the wolves’ territory.

“As long as it takes to catch this asshole.”

“Hn.” They sit in a companionable silence as Jesse drives. Hanzo absently watches the clouds – despite the cooling weather, they are still wispy and sparse. _No storms any time soon._

“Hanzo?”

The demon turns to face him, worried by the edge to his voice. “Yes?”

His hunter is bright red, and won’t look at him. “I, uh… just wanted to let you know… that I, uh… I love you, too.”

Hanzo smiles and places a gentle hand on his leg, rubbing his thumb soothingly along the solid muscle. Jesse drops a gloved hand off the steering wheel, holding Hanzo’s hand, but still avoiding eye contact. Which Hanzo can understand; confessing your love with a snarl and fangs exposed probably wasn’t the best way to do it. 

They finally arrive, and it seems that the wolves had moved further into the adjacent forest, away from the open expanse of the plains.

When they park, Fareeha jumps out of the car quickly, hefting two large duffel bags on her wide shoulders. Jesse grabs as much of the camping gear as he can carry, while Hanzo and Ana grab the rest. Three younger wolves approach the group, and the tallest one clears her throat and address everyone in accented English. 

“Hunters. We have a small area you can occupy. This way,” she barks, before turning and walking further into their territory. 

They follow closely, and when the wolves show them their campsite, they leave to allow the group to set up their two tents. It’s a quick process, much to Hanzo’s surprise; so much tubing, and so many pegs. And they’re not small, dinky tents like he was expecting – they are tall, wide, and easily house him standing upright. Jesse, on the other hand, has to hunch slightly. 

When they’re all done, the four of them stand in front of their tents. “Communicators,” Jesse grunts. Ana and Fareeha each tap their right ears. 

“Already fitted,” Fareeha says seriously. 

“Good. Get a public channel open, an’ test yer signals.”

Both the Amaris nod shortly and walk a short distance away. Jesse walks over to Hanzo, a tiny electronic device in the palm of his large hand. 

“It’s an ear piece and a mic. Jus’ give it a quick press in yer ear, an’ the mic’ll switch on.”

Hanzo grabs the little device, carefully rotating it between his clawed fingers. He then opts to insert it into his right ear. He instantly hears Ana’s voice:

_“Testing. How is my signal?”_

Jesse presses a finger against his ear, holding it down. “Loud an’ clear, Cap’n.” Hanzo hears Jesse’s voice both in his ear and in front of him. It’s a strange sensation. 

_“Pharah online. Testing signal.”_

_“Nice and clear, my little habibti.”_

_“Moooom!”_

Hanzo looks at Jesse awkwardly as he holds his ear piece down. “Hanzo, here. Testing.”

_“Signal received, Hanzo.”_

Jesse gives him a reassuring smile. They all regroup, and Ana addresses Hanzo:

“I should probably warn you, so that you don’t get a fright, as other hunters have when Jesse fails to mention my Nano Boost shots.”

Jesse stays quiet, rubbing his neck sheepishly. Ana continues:

“My rifle handles specialised bullets that null pain and increase adrenaline. But the only way to administer this is to shoot you. I also have biotic shots, which offer a small amount of healing, and biotic grenades, which act as a biotic field that heals all over the entire body.”

Hanzo swishes his tail lazily. “That sounds… scary but helpful.”

Ana laughs. “I will warn you before I shoot. Unless your life is in immediate danger; in which case, I will shoot first and talk later.”

“Mom, that’s not how the saying goes,” Fareeha chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. “Help me with my suit?” Ana gives her a swift nod and both Amaris disappear into their shared tent for a while. 

When Fareeha re-emerges, she is in a full suit of armour; black and gold, with thrusters shaped like bulky wings hanging off her back. Her helmet is in the shape of a jackal’s head. If Hanzo wasn’t mistaken, that was supposed to be Anubis, the ancient Egyptian god of the afterlife. 

Overall, she makes a very impressive and intimidating sight.

Jesse chuckles at Hanzo’s look of awe. “If ya think that’s cool, wait ’til ya see her fly.”

The four of them split up: Fareeha in the air; Jesse on the ground with a team of wolves; Ana and Hanzo up high in the cliffs, scanning the horizon. 

An hour into their patrol, Fareeha appears behind him, landing with a gentle crunching of her armour. He can’t help his biting tone when he addresses her:

“No phone call this time?”

“I’m sorry,” she replies with sarcasm, “but all we heard was angry yelling.” She folds her arms defensively. “Also, we are working. Everything else needs to go on hold until we’re done.”

Hanzo snorts derisively. “Hunters,” he growls. He wants to say a lot more, but for Jesse’s sake (and for the good of the hunt), he remains silent.

Fareeha sighs heavily. “I came to apologise. I’m sorry for upsetting you guys, and I hope you got your stuff all sorted despite my interruption.” 

Hanzo doesn’t turn to face her. Instead, he fidgets with his bow. He hears Fareeha walking away, but before she can take flight, Hanzo turns and calls out to her.

“Did… did you really mean it when you said I was part of the family?”

Fareeha turns and tilts her head. Her eyes aren’t visible under her visor, but the way she places a single hand on her hip demonstrates her mood perfectly.

“Of course! Did you think I would pull something like that if you weren’t?”

And with that, she takes off. Hanzo feels slightly better about that whole ordeal. Only slightly.

 

~~~~~~

 

The day turns up nothing, which is fine for Hanzo, given that he is still getting used to the sporadic bursts of chatter and having to keep his team updated. Jesse, being impatient, keeps them entertained:

_“Oh my God, y’all… there’s a barn owl perched near me!”_

_“Careful, Jesse,”_ Ana says sternly, _“owls are messengers of death.”_

_“Would you stop spoilin’ my fun? This li’l guy is too cute to be death’s messenger. Aint’ ya, fella?”_

Hanzo decides to contribute: “In Japan, owls are a sign of good fortune and protection.”

_“Thank you, sweetheart.”_

“You are welcome, my pet.”

 _“You guys are still on the public channel, you know,”_ Fareeha tuts. 

_“Ok, that is enough,”_ Ana chides, _“can we please cut the chatter? We are on a hunt.”_

 _“Sorry, Cap’n.”_ There are a few seconds of blissful silence, and then: _“but real talk, Ana. Ya can’t think owls are evil when they’re that cute.”_

_“Jesse McCree, you are in my line of sight-”_

_“Shuttin’ up now.”_

 

~~~~~~

 

That night, while Jesse crawls into his sleeping bag and curls up on the matting, Hanzo kneels by the tent’s entrance. The demon is determined to keep watch, given that they’re on unfamiliar territory, and most undead creatures prefer to strike at night.

“C’mere, honey,” Jesse purrs. He gives Hanzo his best puppy-dog eyes.

“I am standing watch.”

“Sweetheart, there are at least a dozen fellas patrollin’ the perimeter tonight. We’re safe. An’ we need to sleep so we can get up nice an’ early tomorrow.”

Hanzo considers, but only for a second. “I can go without sleep for one night,” he replies curtly.

Jesse sighs. “Jus’ ’cause ya can, don’ mean ya should.”

Hanzo ignores him, still listening keenly to the sounds outside their tent.

“Honey, if you don’t get yer ass to bed, then I’m gonna jus’ keep talkin’. I mean it. I can literally talk about nothin’ fer hours on end. Ask Pharah. There was this one time she an’ I were posin’ as siblings when we were checkin’ out rumours about shapeshifters-”

Hanzo has enough. He drops his bow and his quiver roughly beside his sleeping bag, crawls in, and curls up, facing away from Jesse.

“Good night, Hanzo,” Jesse sings sweetly. Hanzo just grunts in response, still listening carefully to the outside world.

Nothing happens. And even on the next day, when the team are out actively patrolling, nothing happens.

Jesse becomes restless and fidgety, while the Amaris remain perfectly stoic and professional. Even though Jesse had been taught by Ana and Gabriel (who was a military man himself), their discipline and patience obviously hadn’t rubbed off on Jesse. 

On the fourth day, Ana catches Fareeha flying with what looks to be a ceramic plate wedged between her knees. She comms Hanzo on a direct line:

_“Ana to Hanzo, come in.”_

“I am here.”

_“Can you see my daughter flying around?”_

“No, I… yes! She has just come into my line of vision. What on earth is she doing?”

_“I’m not quite sure. I hope it is a practical exercise, and not-”_

Ana is cut off by the crack of Jesse’s loud revolver. The plate between Fareeha’s knees shatters, and she punches the air in response. 

_“Hoo! Did y’all see that?”_ Jesse says through the public channel.

 _“Jesse,”_ Ana grumbles, _“that was foolish. You might have scared the wolves into false alertness.”_

_“Naw, they’re right here, payin’ up.”_

Hanzo nearly drops his bow trying to press his communicator fast enough. “Jesse McCree, you did not give away your position to win a bet.”

_“Well, yeah. Gotta defend the best sharp-shooter title.”_

_The best sharp-shooter, huh?_ Hanzo stays on the public line, his voice incredibly smug. “Fareeha, would you mind terribly grabbing another plate?”

The younger Amari drops right out of the sky in her eagerness to retrieve another plate. Ana also speaks through the public comm channel: _“Better make that two plates, Fareeha.”_

_“Aww, c’mon, guys! Let me have my victory! Don’ be showin’ off.”_

But Fareeha is back in the sky, a plate held up in each hand. _“Let’s see who can line up the shot first!”_

She flies in a lazy, wavy line, twisting the plates and moving them up and down. 

Ana comms him directly again. _“Hanzo. I will take the one in Fareeha’s right hand.”_

“Good. I will take the left.” He holds his bow steady, pulling the bowstring taut quickly. The shot is quite far away, so he pulls tighter, feeling the familiar burn on his muscles. The bow creaks slightly, but he knows it won’t give; his weapon was specially designed for inhuman strength. 

He takes in a quick breath, focusses, and pre-empting Fareeha’s movements, he releases. Just as his arrow strikes the plate, a crack comes from Ana’s sniper rifle, and both plates shatter in her hands. 

_“Aww, c’mon! That was bullshit! Pharah, grab another one! Imma shoot it off of yer head!”_

_“Fareeha, don’t do that.”_

_“Sorry, Jesse. My mom told me I’m not allowed to.”_

_“Pharah, you are THIRTY-TWO-”_

“Movement near my position!” Hanzo spots a figure moving through the trees. He’s not sure if it’s the Reaper, but it’s wearing a black hooded cloak and a bony, white mask.

_“Anyone else got eyes on this thing?”_ Jesse asks gruffly. 

_“Negative,”_ Ana responds, _“it is out of my line of sight.”_

_“Pharah?”_

_“Flying to Hanzo’s position now. No eyes on our target yet.”_

_“Keep watchin’ it, Hanzo. I’m on my way over, too.”_

Hanzo does watch, and very closely. This thing moves swiftly and confidently, and it appears to be walking, rather than floating. It stops just short of the traps. Hanzo chances a quick update.

“It has stopped in front of our traps. Looks very tall and solid, dressed completely in black with a white mask.”

Ana comms back instantly: _“That sounds like the Reaper.”_

 _“Confirming sighting,”_ Fareeha says suddenly, _“I can see a black, hooded figure standing just on the border.”_

_“You in the air, Pharah?”_

_“Negative. On the ground, hiding in the cliffs.”_

_“Good. Me an’ the wolves’re almost there.”_

Hanzo continues to watch the creature, its white mask pointed down (eyeing the traps most likely). Suddenly, its mask whips upwards, and it draws _two_ large shotguns from within its cloak.

“Jesse, it’s armed! And it knows you’re on the way.”

But Jesse doesn’t respond; instead, Hanzo watches the creature hold its guns up, pointing at what Hanzo presumes is the hunting party. He faintly hears his hunter’s deep voice, rolling smoothly and calmly.

And suddenly, the creature laughs. It throws back its head and full-on cackles. Its laugh carries across the whole territory, sending birds flying and a chill up Hanzo’s spine. _What is this thing?_

It points its guns upwards, drops them dramatically, then shifts into smoke and disappears.

 _“What the fuck?”_ Jesse barks into the public channel. _“Did anyone see that?”_

“I did,” Hanzo says raggedly. He clears his throat. “I did not see where it went.”

 _“Nor did I,”_ Fareeha chimes in. _“Looks like it got away.”_

Jesse’s team do a quick search of the area, which turns up nothing. The Reaper had literally vanished into thin air.

That night, Jesse chain smokes as he paces relentlessly around their campsite.

“Th’ dirty coward jus’ slinked away,” he snaps, chomping on cigarillo number three. “Jus’ gon’! Like that! Poof!”

“We need to be more vigilant, now,” Ana says gruffly. “He knows that you are here protecting these wolves. That means he will be more careful and a lot more dangerous.”

“Ta hell with ’im! I’d like to see his cowardly ass try an’ git close!”

Hanzo agrees with Ana: “This creature knew exactly where to look for traps, and exactly how far it could be from them without setting them off. And now it knows you are here; it will adjust its actions based on your presence.”

Fareeha stands beside Ana, her helmet off and held securely in her left arm. She is uncharacteristically quiet.

Jesse stomps out the remains of his cigarillo and digs in his pockets for another. Its then that the team hear a shotgun blast, followed by pained howling.

Quick as a whip, the four of them sprint over with their weapons, hearing more shotgun blasts as they run. 

A wolf meets them half way, barking and waving with wide, fearful eyes. Hanzo thinks he hears Guillermo’s name in there somewhere.

Jesse quickly translates as the wolf shows them where the action is happening:

“So Guillermo an’ his mate hear somethin’ an’ go to check it out. They see the Reaper, go to shoot it, but the fucker was faster; blasted right through Guillermo’s leg. His mate fought back, knocked the shotguns outta his hands, an’ kicked him right into a trap.”

They’re stopped at the lip of the property, where a large number of wolves are gathered. Some stand guard, holding rifles and pistols, others are on the floor, tending to their pack leader and his bloodied leg, and others are tending to an elderly she-wolf, who calls out to Jesse with a voice that is more growl than words.

Ana takes a quick look around, then heads up to higher ground. Fareeha does the same, taking off and scanning the nearby trees. Hanzo waits patiently for Jesse to finish talking.

When he does, he addresses Hanzo quickly: “The Reaper’ll be tired an’ weak. Now’s our chance.” He taps the comm in his ear. “Cap’n, Lieutenant, we’re goin’ in.

 _“Understood,”_ Ana replies, _“I am just setting up a nest near the incident.”_

_“Pharah here, patrolling the skies. I can’t see much through all of the trees, but if you need an airstrike, I’ll be here.”_

“Thanks, Pharah.” Then, to Hanzo; “Let’s go.”

They both head into the forest, the trees getting thicker and denser. Jesse insists on leading, revolver drawn and long legs carrying him over the undergrowth. 

They both hear a ragged wheezing from further in. Jesse looks to Hanzo and makes that infuriating ‘stay put’ signal. The demon complies reluctantly, tail flicking in an agitated fashion.

His hunter walks slowly, revolver drawn. He moves around a large tree and into an open area. He pulls back with lightning speed, taking cover behind the thick tree just as the unmistakeable crack of a shotgun cuts through the air, pelting the ground right where Jesse had been standing and sending up a rough spray of dirt and bark.

His hunter pops out from the other side of the tree and fires. An inhuman screech pierces their ears, and then fades away.

“It’s makin’ a run for it!” Jesse takes chase through the forest, and Hanzo follows.

 _“Try to lead him into the clearing so I can take my shot,”_ says Ana.

“We’ll try, Cap’n.”

They run after the entity, breathing heavily. Hanzo can just make out black smoke in the distance. He readies his bow, and suddenly his feet plant themselves firmly on the ground, his whole body going rigid shortly after. He growls, confused, and it’s then that he sees the drawings on the floor – a demon trap.

He roars, furious; it was so cleverly hidden under all of autumn’s leaves. 

_“Stoppin’ pursuit to help Hanzo.”_ Not long after he hears his hunter's voice over the comms, the man himself reappears.

“Keep going! I will be fine,” Hanzo snaps. 

Jesse ignores him, dusting away the leaves at Hanzo’s feet.

“What are you doing?” the demon growls. 

“Not leavin’ you behind.”

“It’s a demon trap. They’re very complex.”

Jesse shoots him a quick, unimpressed glance. He then proceeds to rub out the text at one of the points of the pentagram. He’s using salt crystals to scrape the inscriptions away.

Once the first point is clear, Hanzo’s legs start to feel tingly. 

“I believe it is working,” he says gently. Jesse says nothing, already rubbing out the second point. Hanzo can move his upper body now.

When Jesse rubs out the third point, the Reaper appears in a cloud of swirling black smoke, chuckling darkly at them. It has a tall and very solid figure, and is covered in black armour. It wears a long, hooded cloak, and belts and belts studded with shotgun shells. Its face is covered in a sinister, skull-like mask that is also rather bird-like as well.

Hanzo draws his bow, snarling fiercely. Jesse also trains his revolver on the creature. 

“Please,” it growls sarcastically, “I’m sure we can have an adult discussion without weapons flying.”

“You better have a damn good explanation fer terrorisin’ these wolves an’ killin’ their livestock.”

“That pack leader of theirs has a nice bounty on his head.” 

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Jesse’s voice gets louder and nastier. “You’re a fuckin’ _mercenary?”_

The creature starts cackling, outright guffawing, its masked head pulled backwards and it’s armoured chest heaving.

 _“Niño,”_ it tuts, shaking its head, “I’m a hunter. Same as you.” 

Hanzo’s heart lodges itself firmly in his throat; this thing knows Jesse. Hanzo raises his bow, ready to fire, but Jesse moves in front of him. 

“Who are you?”

“I am the Reaper.”

“That’s cute,” Jesse snaps, “but what I meant was, who the _fuck_ are you?”

“Hmmm,” the creature purrs, tapping its mask with clawed gauntlets. “If I tell you, it’d be too easy.” It holds its hands in front of it, imploringly. “How about I leave you with this: the mentor you thought you lost is still out there.”

“What?” His hunter’s voice becomes raspy and weak. “No. Gabriel died. He’s dead.”

The Reaper laughs again, an ugly, chilling sound. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.” He draws a shotgun from within the folds of his cloak. Hanzo tenses, arrow aimed right for the eye socket of that mask.

“I thought he taught you not to bring work home with you?” He tilts his mask towards Hanzo.

Jesse never looks away from the creature. “That ain’t none of yer business.”

“Oh, but it is. I can’t have a powerful demon getting in my way.”

Jesse takes a step forward, and quick as a whip, the Reaper points the gun at him. 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, _niño._ Let me kill the demon, and then we can have a proper chat.”

Hanzo doesn’t wait; the trap is weak enough for him to call on the oni spirit that dwells within him. He focuses his energy on calling it forth, on releasing its awesome power through his arm and his arrow. 

And he focuses on Jesse, his hunter, and keeping him safe.

_“Consume!”_

He releases the arrow, and as soon as it soars out of the trap, a large oni’s face materialises – red spirit energy twists and snaps, and bites straight into the Reaper’s gun arm. 

It screeches and roars, trying to escape, but the oni has it trapped. At least for a little while; Hanzo is out of practise, and his energy had been sapped from the demon trap. He watches as the red spirit energy disintegrates, and the enraged Reaper phases itself into its smoky form and disappears. 

Jesse wastes no time breaking the last points of the trap. Hanzo falls into his arms, totally boneless.

“Honey, c’mon. We gotta get back to camp.”

Hanzo shuffles his feet, trying to will them into behaving, but he has no strength left.

“Hanzo, stay awake!” Jesse’s voice fades in and out. But he focuses intently on it, trying to arrange his thoughts so he can respond to his hunter.

“That’s it, honey. You got it.” The demon opens and closes his eyes rapidly, but his vision is compromised, fading fast. Instead, he focuses on the warmth of Jesse’s body pressed against his. It’s the last thing he remembers before slipping into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Reaper has arrived >:DDD
> 
> And don't worry, there will be lots of angstwers (answers with a healthly helping of angst) next chapter!


	5. Rumors of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I got this beastly chapter smashed out in a week :DDD
> 
> Prepare for the feels!  
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________

_Hanzo wakes to an empty bed. He pats the spot where Jesse would normally be – it’s cold._

_He kicks off the sheets and saunters out of their room. As soon as he’s in the hallway, he’s hit with the mouth-watering smells of Jesse’s cooking._

_He shuffles on over to the kitchen to find Jesse fully dressed and flitting from pan to pan, tending the stove attentively. He shoots a quick glance back at Hanzo._

_“Got some guests comin’ over soon. Better put some clothes on, sweetheart!”_

_Hanzo struts into the kitchen anyway, and manages to steal a single corn tortilla before Jesse shoos him away. He chomps it down quickly as he retreats to their room for his clothes._

_But when he gets back to the bedroom, it’s no longer Jesse’s room in Jesse’s house, but Hanzo’s personal room in the Shimada castle. He looks around for Yama-san, and instead finds Angela._

_“What are you doing here?” he snaps._

_“I don’t know,” she says mockingly, “what am I doing here?”_

_Before Hanzo can offer a cutting retort and demand answers, Angela starts screaming in pain and terror, black smoke gushing out of her mouth. It consumes her, covering her with angry, pulsating swirls and twists. Eventually, it drowns out the sound of her screams, and it fades into nothing, the black smoke dissipating quickly._

_In a panic, Hanzo turns to leave the room, reaching for a wooden door that shouldn’t be there, given that his room has sliding_ shōji. _He grabs at it anyway, needing to escape, but the door won’t budge. He pulls, kicks, punches the door, but it doesn’t even rattle on its hinges._

_“Hey,” a voice behind him says. It’s Genji._

_“What do you want?” Hanzo snaps. He doesn’t have the patience for games or jokes._

_“Let me try?”_

_Hanzo grasps the doorknob even tighter, flattening himself against the door. He snarls and snaps, mind completely addled by panic and confusion. But still, Genji stands calmly with that stupid awkward half-smile he has, eyes gentle and soft._

_Finally, Hanzo removes himself from the door. He takes a few steps back, and Genji eases his way in, and calmly opens the door with no effort._

_Hanzo can only stand dumbstruck. Genji throws him a friendly smile, which then quickly turns mischievous._

_“No,” Hanzo growls. “Whatever you are thinking,_ don’t do it.”

__

__

_But Genji wraps a solid arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, laughing freely as he pulls them both through the door._

It’s then that Hanzo wakes, and he starts to feel his body again. Everything hurts and feels far too heavy – especially his eyelids. His attention is captured by someone next to him humming. 

_That does not sound like Jesse._ He opens an eye painstakingly slowly and finds himself in a tent. Even though the tent’s fabric waters down the intensity of the sun, the light still stings his eye. Hell, he’s feeling so oversensitive, the _air_ stings his eye, so he shuts it. As he stirs, he finally figures out who sits beside him.

“Oh, hey! You’re awake!” _Fareeha._ Hanzo just grunts in response. “Well, sort of awake. Hey, do everyone a favour and pretend to still be sleeping – Jesse literally wouldn’t leave your side until 5 minutes ago. He’ll be annoyed if you woke up just when he left.”

The demon takes stock of his body: his limbs feel heavy and tired; his stomach is unsettled and twisted in knots, and his head throbs. He notices that he’s lying on top of a sleeping bag, rather than in it, and he can feel the rough fibres of Jesse’s cloak against his bare skin. He tries to speak, but he finds that his throat is sore and dry; all he manages is a groan. 

“Shhh! Just lie still, and pretend to be asleep. I’ll go get Jesse.”

Hanzo doesn’t have the energy (or the voice) to argue. He lies back and exhales heavily as Fareeha leaves the tent. He thinks back to the last thing he remembers:

Jesse was making food. No, wait. That was part of a dream. The last thing he properly remembers is gunshots and shouting.

Yes, that was it. They were at the campsite when the Reaper showed up. It was covered in heavy armour, a cloak with a hood, and an owl-like bone mask.

And it knows Jesse.

Speaking of, the hunter enters the tent quietly. Hanzo stirs, and it’s all that it takes for Jesse to start gushing.

“Hanzo! Honey, are you awake? Can ya hear me?”

He tries to croak out a reassuring ‘I’m fine’, but all that comes out is a rasp.

“Here, got ya some water.”

He feels a plastic straw pressing against his lower lip, and he takes it in his mouth, drinking eagerly. He doesn’t think he’s ever tasted water so beautiful and clear. 

In his eagerness, the water goes down the wrong way, and he sits up quickly as he has a coughing fit.

“Easy, there,” Jesse laughs, giving his back gentle pats.

Hanzo breathes in, long and slow and ragged. His head starts spinning; he should not have sat up so quickly. Jesse helps him lie back down, cooing reassurances all the while.

The skin that is covered in ink feels tingly and tender. He doesn’t ever remember it being this bad, even after a long time of not summoning the oni. 

“So… I think this asshole is a hunter. Or maybe was in his first life; ain’t seen a demon trap that nasty in a while.”

Hanzo grunts. “What do you mean?” he manages to rasp quietly.

“I mean, most traps only immobilise. This one woulda killed you if you stayed in it long enough.” Jesse grabs his hand and holds it tightly. “You’ve been out fer nearly 24 hours.”

The demon growls weakly; he’s lost a whole day. “And the Reaper?”

“Hasn’t come back. I’d say he’s recoverin’ too.” Jesse pauses, as if deep in thought. “What _was_ all that?” he whispers. Hanzo turns to face him. “With the arrow, an’ that… that _thing?”_

Hanzo looks away quickly. “Not now.”

“Honey, it’s pretty important. I think y’oughta tell me what the deal is there.”

Hanzo growls. “And when will you speak of what bothers _you?”_

“Those are two different-”

“No, they are not!” Hanzo turns and stares down Jesse fiercely. “You have had traumas in your past, same as me. Do you think it was a pleasant experience binding the soul of an oni to my own?”

“An oni?” Jesse stares wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “How… how did you even…?” He shakes his head to clear it. “I, uh… No. I guess that don’t sound too pleasant.”

“So, when you are ready to confide in me, I will be ready to confide in you.” And with that, Hanzo turns to face the opposite wall.

The two of them sit in a heavy silence for a few minutes. Jesse breaks first; he crawls beside Hanzo and wraps solid arms around him, careful not to brush his tattooed arm. The demon lets out a light breath, relaxing with the feeling of Jesse’s lips against his neck.

His hunter talks quietly. “When I started huntin’ with Gabriel, most of the jobs we got were to take out vampires. An’ more often than not, our targets were just regular people tryin’ to live their lives, but some asshole had found out that they were vampires, an’ called hunters in.”

Jesse pauses, then inhales shakily. “I lost count of how many dead vampires we found. Lost count of how many bodies we found with their teeth cut out, how many we found gutted an’ left to die slowly, how many we found murdered. And then there were those askin’ fer death, because that was kinder than livin’ in this world.”

Hanzo grabs Jesse’s hand and strokes it reassuringly. He suddenly remembers their hunt in Australia, and the times Jesse had been glassy-eyed and unresponsive. “Were you having flashbacks?”

Jesse is quiet for a time. He finally responds sounding very tired and ragged. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

Hanzo exhales heavily. “Then I feel more the fool for ignoring your plight.”

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t’ve known.”

“I could have if I had listened to you.”

“Listened to me when?” Jesse tucks himself closer into Hanzo, squeezing him close with his arm. “Honey, I just shut down. I didn’t tell you nothin’, even though ya tried to work it outta me. Please don’t feel like it’s yer fault, ’cause it ain’t.”

Hanzo still feels terribly about it. He offers what comfort he can, pressing himself closer to his hunter and stroking his hands. He clears his throat, bracing himself.

“You know what stood the Shimada apart from regular demons.” It is a statement rather than a question, but Jesse answers anyway.

“The fact that they bound spirits to themselves.”

“Correct. The Shimada were losing power and status, and the elders became desperate. My father was dying, and they wanted me to be a stronger, fiercer leader than he was. So, they developed a plan. They called forth an oni into this realm. And when it was time to bind it with my soul, I had to consume life energy to be strong enough to survive the process.”

Jesse is quiet for a long time. He breathes raggedly against Hanzo’s neck. “How the fuck did y’all get an oni to agree to bind itself to you?”

Hanzo chuckles mirthlessly. “The Shimada elders were vile snakes. They promised it power, and the ability to roam in our world, without making it obvious that it could only do so whilst bound to me and obeying my orders.”

“Shit, Hanzo. Y’all couldn’t use a _yurei,_ or some other spirit?” He feels Jesse shaking his head. “Y’don’t… ya just don’t fuck with oni and their realm”

“As I said, the elders were desperate. And I was foolish – I needed to prove myself, to uphold the family name and honour.”

“So… you got an oni attached to ya.” Jesse runs his fingers along the back of Hanzo’s hand, careful not to touch tattooed flesh. “Is that how ya got yer ink?”

Hanzo laughs freely, pushing himself backwards and closer to Jesse. “No. I actually had this piece done in black ink a long time ago. I picked the oni because it is a force to be reckoned with.” He closes his eyes. “The irony was lost on no one during the ritual.”

Jesse lets out a low whistle. “Gotta love unpredictable demon magic.”

Hanzo snorts. “It is only unpredictable to you.”

“Oh, so y’all were jus’ expecting the tattoo to jus’ fill up with colour?”

Hanzo rolls himself onto his stomach so he can face Jesse and still keep pressure off his sore arm. “I thought you were well-informed of our ways?”

“I thought I was, too,” Jesse chuckles. “So, all Shimada get black an’ white ink, and yer spirit companion colours it in for y’all?”

“That is… essentially how it works.” Hanzo frowns slightly. “Or, rather, how it _did_ work; the Shimada are no longer around.”

Jesse grabs his face gently with his metal hand, smiling sweetly. “I’m glad you’re still around.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes. “That was terribly cheesy… but not entirely unwelcome.”

“Glad ta hear it, sweetheart.” Jesse pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling beside Hanzo. “Shall we?”

The demon reluctantly pushes himself off the mat and stands himself up, letting the cloak fall to the floor. It’s then that he notices that he’s only wearing a pair of Jesse’s old exercise shorts.

“Yeah, I uh… had to cover you up when Ana came in to check on ya.” Jesse scratches his chest absently. “Did ya want one of my shirts?”

Instead of answering, Hanzo picks up Jesse’s cloak and wraps it gently around his shoulders – the skin is still too tender for a shirt. Before they head out, Hanzo mentions his dream to Jesse.

“After I summon the oni, my mind and spirit are more open to messages from other realms. I… I think it means that Angela knows something important, but if she reveals it to us, the Reaper will harm her.”

Jesse looks at him uneasily. “Tell ya what; everyone’s been waitin’ fer you to recover so we can hear what happened. I’ll give Angie a call when things are a li’l more settled here.”

“Ok.” And with that, the two of them head out of the tent. 

Hanzo sits in one of the camping chairs while Jesse comms the Amaris for an ‘emergency meeting’. When they arrive, Fareeha opts to stand – her armour is far too sharp and bulky for the camping chairs.

Jesse talks them through what happened – describing Hanzo ensnared in the demon trap, the conversation he had with the Reaper, and finally, he leaves it up to Hanzo to explain what happened after that.

Hanzo pulls the cloak tighter around his shoulders and takes a steadying breath. “My family were from an ancient line of powerful demons. When we started losing our power and influence, I… I foolishly volunteered myself for an unorthodox procedure. I had the soul of an oni bound to my own.”

Both Amaris turn pale, looking fearfully at the demon. 

“How did you survive such a thing?” Ana whispers.

The demon looks at his feet. “Human life energy.”

Ana looks at him with an expression that looks pretty close to disgust. Fareeha presses her lips into a firm line and says nothing. Jesse looks at Hanzo gently and places a hand on his back, encouraging him to continue. Hanzo pulls the cloak even tighter around himself, breathing in Jesse’s scent; it is immensely calming.

“So, I can… call on the oni’s spirit to consume my enemies. But the oni is bound to me – no one else can command it, and it _must_ obey me.”

“That is a lot of power for one creature to have,” Ana says firmly. 

“Indeed it is,” Hanzo agrees, “but I am not young and naïve. Nor do I hunger for power or glory. I only summon such power when it is absolutely necessary.”

“And was it necessary in this instance?” Ana fixes him with a hard glare, but Hanzo doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

“I dunno,” says Jesse cautiously, “I mean, I might have been able to talk the Reaper down. He wanted to talk, remember?”

Hanzo turns to face his hunter. “That was not a risk I was willing to take, given that he had a shotgun pointed at your face. Were I not trapped, I would have personally ripped him to pieces with my bare hands.”

“Sweetheart, ya can’t jus’ go in guns blazin’-”

“If your life is at risk, I will go in with guns, swords, knives-”

“That’s very sweet, Hanzo,” Fareeha says quickly with a small smile, “but we’d like to know what happened next.”

Hanzo huffs, blood rushing to his face. He hopes no one can see his blush while he collects his thoughts. “I was too weak to summon the oni properly, so I believe that the Reaper was injured, but not ended.”

“Yeah,” Jesse adds, “he was definitely still alive. An’ we might need to rethink that whole ‘can’t phase into smoke if he’s weak’ line of thought, ’cause that seems to be his default state when he’s injured.” He goes quiet, fiddling with his metal fingers. “This thing said that… the mentor I thought I lost was still alive. I think this thing knows Gabriel. He might be alive. And in trouble.”

“I do not trust it,” Hanzo says instantly. “These things lie; they get into your head and say everything that you do not wish to hear.”

“I agree,” Fareeha declares. “And Gabriel definitely died – Mom saw the explosion. He and Jack are gone. Right, Mom?”

But Ana has gone uncharacteristically quiet and still. Fareeha picks up on it straight away.

“Mom?” She looks to Ana, fearful and uncertain.

The elder hunter whispers, deathly quiet: “Gabriel didn’t die.”

“What?” Jesse rasps. “But… but the explosion… he…” Jesse’s face quickly goes from despair to fury, directed straight at the elder Amari. “You knew?” 

Ana doesn’t say a word, but the way she looks at Jesse sadly says everything. 

“Don’ give me that fuckin’ look, Ana!” Jesse stands suddenly, pointing at Ana accusingly. “You knew, an’ you let me think he was dead fer six fuckin’ years!”

“It was better than the truth,” she says softly.

“Wh… what?”

Ana never breaks eye contact, but her movements are gentle. “Please, sit habibi. I have a lot to tell you.”

Jesse stubbornly stands firm, not moving an inch. Hanzo places a gentle hand on his arm, pulling gently. Slowly, Jesse sits back in his seat, eyes never leaving Ana.

“This story starts six years ago, when I was in hiding.”

“You mean after you faked yer own death?”

“Yes, during that time,” Ana replies calmly, completely ignoring Jesse’s biting tone. Hanzo scoots his chair closer to his hunter. He gently slips his hand into Jesse’s, hoping to both calm and reassure him. His hunter unclenches his hand and allows Hanzo’s to rest there. 

“Hanzo, just so that you have some additional context, an attempt was made on my life. It is how I lost this eye.” Ana brushes her hair away from her face, revealing her eye patch. Hanzo finds it strange seeing it out in the full after only ever catching glimpses of it under her hair.

She lets her hair fall back into place before continuing, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Fareeha and Jesse were the only ones who knew that I was still alive. I only stayed hidden for a month – I grew restless, and I knew that the world still needed Ana Amari to protect them. A year later, I came across the Reaper.”

“Hn,” Hanzo growls. “So he introduced himself as the Reaper to you.”

Ana focusses her gaze on Hanzo. “Yes, he did. And I had heard the name from others. Others who described him as a lesser demon, or a false demon. Some even described him as a shapeshifter because of his ability to turn to smoke. But they all told the same stories; livestock, pets or wild animals in the area drained of their essence, and not long after, the targets would meet their demise at the end of a shotgun.”

“So you _think_ the Reaper is Gabriel?” Jesse asks raggedly. “Because of the shotguns?”

“I mentioned that he caught me by surprise and it came to blows? In the scuffle, I managed to pull his mask off.” Ana closes her eye. Her breathing becomes shaky, and when she looks back up at Jesse, her eye is moist and she looks close to tears. 

“Jesse, I know the Reaper is Gabriel because I saw his face.”

There are an awful few seconds of silence. Hanzo watches his hunter’s face lose all of its colour. Fareeha looks ill, and her hands are tightly clenched, her armour creaking.

“…naw,” Jesse says hoarsely. “Naw, you didn’t see right.”

Fareeha speaks up for the first time, her voice weak and ragged. “Mother, he died in an explosion. He shouldn’t have a face left!”

“He had Gabriel Reyes’ face,” Ana says firmly. “It was decayed, and smoking and putrid. But it was definitely him.”

Fareeha runs a hand through her hair roughly, her eyes wide. “And then what? He just let you leave?”

“No. He just… disappeared into smoke.”

“Did he-” Jesse clears his throat, “Did he… say anythin’ to you?”

“He kept saying ‘they did this to me.’ I’m not quite sure who he was referring to.” She sighs heavily, and her fists clench. “He also mentioned ‘the good doctor.’ I would assume he means Angela.”

“No,” Fareeha growls defensively. “She would have told us if she knew anything.”

“I am not convinced of that,” Hanzo says coldly.

Fareeha shoots Hanzo a rather curious look. Jesse covers his face, runs his hands down and keeps them over his mouth. He sits like this for a while.

“Fuck, Ana,” he mutters through his hands. “Just… _fuck.”_

“I am sorry you had to find out this way. I never expected him to taunt you like that.”

“An’ now he’s, he’s jus’… some kinda gun fer hire.”

“That is why I thought you both would be better thinking he was dead. He is quite literally a shadow of his former self.” She stands, slowly and deliberately. “I need to check on Guillermo; his leg was quite severely wounded, and we may need to amputate.”

She leaves the three of them in a suffocating silence. Hanzo watches both hunters stare blankly ahead, barely moving except for the occasional blink. He doesn’t know if there is anything he should say or do, so he sits in silence with them, adjusting Jesse’s cloak so that it sits a little more loosely across his shoulders. 

Fareeha causes Hanzo to jump when she speaks quietly. “It can’t be,” she whispers. Jesse stays still and soundless. Fareeha sniffs loudly, and Hanzo can see tears dropping from her eyes. “It can’t be the same Gabriel that used to give me piggy-back rides.”

Jesse lets out a choked sob. He takes in a heavy, shaky breath, lower lip trembling. “The same Gabriel who used to hide my hat whenever I’d pack it fer a hunt.”

“The same Gabriel who taught me how to use a knife,” Fareeha says with a half-laugh, half-sob.

“The one who taught me to believe in myself.”

With that statement, Fareeha drops her helmet and rushes to Jesse. They embrace clumsily, sobbing freely into each other’s shoulders. Hanzo allows them their moment; he slinks away back to his tent, and lies down heavily. 

If the physical exhaustion wasn’t crippling enough, the emotional turmoil was definitely sufficient to sap him of his remaining strength. He closes his eyes, only expecting to rest for a short while, but his fatigue overcomes him, and he falls into heavy sleep.

 

~~~~~~

 

When Hanzo wakes, their tent is brightly lit by the morning sun, and he feels a very solid warmth beside him. 

“Aww, yer awake,” Jesse says playfully. 

Hanzo huffs in response. “Why is that such a bad thing, I wonder?” he asks with a smile, eyes still closed.

“’Cause I hardly ever catch you sleepin’. And yer real cute with the way yer face twitches-”

“It does not!” Hanzo laughs. He looks at Jesse now, and instantly regrets it – his hunter looks exhausted, with bags under his eyes and a little less colour in his cheeks than usual. At least his smile is genuine. 

The demon places a gentle hand on his hunter’s face. “You look terrible.”

“Ouch, darlin’.”

He takes on a more serious demeanour, pushing Jesse’s hair out of his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not a wink.” 

Hanzo sighs. “I suspected as much. And the Amaris?”

“Same deal. They’re outside havin’ their leaf water.”

“… You mean ‘tea’?”

Jesse closes his eyes lazily. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Hanzo chuckles. “Shall I get dressed, then?”

They both stand, Jesse helping Hanzo into his _kyudo-gi._ They drape the left sleeve over his inked skin carefully, but it’s marginally less tender now.

They step outside and find Ana and Fareeha sitting with steaming mugs in their hands, the younger Amari sitting stiffly and carefully in one of the camping chairs. Jesse and Hanzo take the remaining chairs, and Fareeha looks uncomfortably at everyone.

“So… what do we do now?” she asks uneasily. 

Ana speaks up: “I would say our priority is investigating the pack leader, given that he has a bounty on his head. Jesse?” Ana looks to him cautiously, as if expecting defiance. He looks at her with a neutral face. “We’ll need you to get in touch with Winston, check his forums and others to see if we can find any information on the hit, and why it has been organised.”

“Will we have time to run back to the house an’ get intel? ’Cause gettin’ in touch with Winston an’ other hunters quickly and effectively needs a computer. An’ if I want info about Reaper from the deep web, I’ll need Lúcio’s hackin’ skills.”

“Very well. Fareeha and I will handle things here in the meantime. But do come back swiftly.”

And so they leave their tent and sleeping bags at the campsite. They visit Guillermo quickly before they leave, but his family won’t allow them entry into his quarters; they don’t want to risk an infection, and they’re particularly wary of Hanzo. He doesn’t blame them; after summoning the oni while in a demon trap, he’d imagine he smells like fire and brimstone, but ten times worse.

They drive back to their house in a tired, but comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for even moar feels >:D
> 
>  
> 
> In case the latest chapter name didn't make it clear, all of the chapters in part 4 are named after Rise Against songs! And this song was the **perfect** title for this chapter lololol


	6. Midnight Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guh! This took heckin' aaaages and I'm so sorry! I hope it reads ok, because I've been so sleep-deprived this last little while :///
> 
> Aaaaanyway, please enjoy! ❤
> 
>  **EDIT:** Forgot to throw in the Commission info as per usual :///  
>  Aaaanyway, I made a new commission sheet because the old one was _awful!_ Remember: info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff

The first thing Hanzo does when he and Jesse get back home is remove his armoured boots. The next thing he does is land heavily in Jesse’s desk chair while Jesse gets his computer set up for a conference call with Winston and Lúcio. Hanzo falls asleep in the chair briefly, and he wakes up to the sound of his hunter’s gentle laughter. 

“Aww, no! I woke you up!”

Hanzo grunts in response, but he can’t help the smile that takes over his face. He yawns and stretches, then stands, leaving Jesse to his conference.

He moves to the living room couch and tries to go back to the cowboy book he was reading, but it feels so dry and inane; he reads the same page twice and takes in none of it. Fed up, he puts the paperback aside and grabs the little leather-bound book that Fareeha was reading before they all left for the campsite.

Hanzo opens it to the first page:

_Hunts of Jesse A. McCree & Gabriel Reyes _

_Undead creatures and beasts, edition one_

He absently makes a mental note to ask Jesse what his middle name is.

He reads, enraptured; Jesse writes neatly and in great detail, with diagrams and photos attached. He notices that all of the entries are chronological, with the first account being the oldest.

Hanzo reads about a _draugr_ hunt in Sweden with a hunter named Torbjörn, who helped Jesse and Gabriel stop the beast with traps and turrets. 

He reads about a hunt where Jesse and Gabriel helped a vampire couple find a shelter where they could come to terms with their new life in a safe and friendly environment. 

He reads a harrowing account about a necromancer that managed to summon a lesser demon. He sees names of hunters he’s both heard of and never heard of; the Amaris, Lena Oxton, Jack Morrison, and even Angela, who came to act as medic.

And he reads of a vampire mercenary known only as the Widowmaker, who has managed to elude authorities at every turn. He’s not sure why reading about the Widowmaker sets him on edge. Maybe he’ll talk to Jesse when he’s a little less stressed and not freaking out over the fact that his mentor is actually alive after six years of thinking him dead. 

When Hanzo gets to a lich hunt dated 12 years ago, he hears Jesse in the office switching off all of his devices. Hanzo puts the book aside and goes to him.

His hunter sits hunched with his face in his hands. 

“Jesse?”

He starts. “Oh. Forgot you were here.”

Hanzo doesn’t respond; he walks up behind Jesse and wraps his arms around him securely. Jesse sniffs loudly.

“Sorry, Hanzo,” he says with a weak laugh, “I’m a real mess at the moment.”

The demon nuzzles into Jesse’s neck sweetly, still holding him. “Did you want to go outside for some fresh air?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

They sit quietly in the backyard; Hanzo on the hammock, and Jesse on the floor with his long legs stretched out, smoking one of his cigarillos.

“Did you want to talk about your call?” Hanzo asks softly. Jesse stays silent for a time, smoke curling lazily around his face.

“They, uh… that is, Lúcio found out why the hit was organised.”

Hanzo scoots closer, eyes wide.

“I know that Guillermo organises fer wolves to move in an’ out of his pack. Wolves that are fleein’ violence an’ malpractice an’ whatnot. But the thread with the hit… it jus’ looks so _bad._ They’re makin’ it look like a trafficking ring.” Jesse sighs heavily, chewing his cigarillo. “It’s a damn mess, an’ I’m a damn mess, too.”

He cards a hand through his hair roughly. “I jus’ don’ know what to do, or how to feel, or…” He trails off, staring forlornly at his feet. Hanzo steps off the hammock carefully, and moves in front of Jesse, kneeling gently between his hunter’s legs. Jesse looks at him sadly.

“Did you want to talk?” Hanzo asks gently.

“What’s there to say?”

Hanzo pauses a moment, then decides to proceed with a risky topic. “You only ever talk of Gabriel when you recall memories of your youth. What happened in those later years?”

“The HEP caught up with him.”

Hanzo tilts his head quizzically. “Hepatitis?”

Jesse lets out an unexpected guffaw. “Naw, not hep – _the_ HEP. H-E-P.”  
Hanzo gives his hunter a gentle smile. “I am still none the wiser.”

“It was a program – the Human Enhancement Program. Or HEP for short. Something that was started to improve human hunters, because our senses are pretty limited as compared to other beings.” Jesse closes his eyes, and chuckles without humour. “Gabriel used to go off at me every single time I’d say somethin’ like ‘I wish I could hear things like wolves do’, or ‘I wish I could see like vampires can’. An’ I never understood why he’d get so mad, until years later when he finally told me.”

He opens his eyes and hunches over more comfortably, bringing their faces closer together. “The HEP started off with just training and drills, visors for enhanced vision, ear pieces for better hearing, and the training to use them properly in dangerous situations. But it wasn’t enough – equipment has faults and limitations, as do humans. But certain drugs lift those limitations. And someone put two an’ two together – why have humans using expensive equipment when they could be that equipment?

“So that’s what happened; Gabriel and about fifty other elite hunters volunteered themselves for the project, which was run by the military. They were basically guinea pigs for the two years that the project was running. An’ that’s how he met Jack Morrison.”

Hanzo watches Jesse’s face closely. “I have never heard this name from you before.”

“Naw,” Jesse chuckles, “he an’ I never did get along. Which was fine, because I didn’t work all that closely with him – I was Gabriel’s subordinate.

“Anyway, Jack was another elite hunter that survived the duration of the HEP. He died in the explosion with Gabriel… or… y’know…”

“I know,” Hanzo says gently. He prompts; “So, Gabriel and Jack were superhuman?”

“Yeah. I guess you could put it that way. Anyway, Jack wanted to start an organised guild that kept track of hunters so that there weren’t any rogue assholes killin’ fer the sake of killin’. Ana was in, but Gabriel wasn’t. So instead he did his own thing – special ops, covert ops; the whole shebang. It was his specialty in the military, so naturally when Jack and Ana wanted to do more public safety stuff, Gabriel slinked right off to do the dirty work.” Jesse looks away from Hanzo with a heavy sigh. “An’ that’s when he picked me up. An’ it’s why I got away with murder.”

“Got away with murder?” Hanzo looks at his hunter’s face more closely, but Jesse isn’t meeting his gaze. “You told me that you acted to protect others from an aggressive werewolf.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t a hunter, nor was I actin’ on a contract. And I was a minor. I’d be in all sorts of shit with the law if Gabriel hadn’t picked me up when he did.” Jesse waves his hand dismissively, still not looking at the demon. “Anyway, Jack and Ana’s Overwatch never took off, but a lot of the guidelines an’ ethics they pushed to have in place are followed closely by reputable hunters.”

They sit in silence. Something definitely doesn’t sit well with Hanzo; Jesse had never mentioned that killing the werewolf that bit Clara had landed him in any kind of trouble. To hear it now, as well as learning that the person responsible for Jesse’s freedom is now running around in a mask and shooting people makes everything that much more messy. 

When Jesse doesn’t offer anything else, Hanzo places a gentle hand on his scruffy cheek. His hunter instantly turns his face into his hand, pressing in as closely as he can manage. 

“’M sorry, honey.” He laughs weakly. “This ain’t what you signed up for.”

With that, Hanzo grabs his face firmly with both of his clawed hands. Jesse looks at him with surprise.

“I signed up for a partnership with a man that I respect. And I am immensely satisfied with that arrangement.”

Jesse starts half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Ya couldn’t have said that a li’l more romantically?”

The demon huffs. “If you wish for romance, I can bring you sacrificial gifts.”

“Honey, no-”

“Or the liver of an ox – one of my aunts used one to declare her love for her chosen mate.”

Jesse raspberries loudly. “God, yer family is fuckin’ weird.”

Hanzo laughs freely. “You have no idea.”

Jesse pulls him closer gently, still chuckling under his breath. Hanzo goes, tucking himself into Jesse, and wrapping his arms firmly around him. Jesse sighs heavily into Hanzo’s hair. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Any time,” Hanzo says sweetly. They stay wrapped up in each other, neither of them wanting to let go. But they do eventually get sore and stiff, and Jesse needs to get up and call the Amaris and update them on what he’d found. And they both need to talk to Angela; she has a lot of explaining to do. 

 

~~~~~~

 

The next morning, the demon, witch and hunter are all gathered in the kitchen space again. It is laughably similar to the last time the three of them were all together: Jesse staring down the percolator in a vain attempt to speed it up; Angela sitting stiffly while wringing her hands; Hanzo watching Angela closely, a fresh mug of tea in front of him. 

“So,” Jesse says firmly with two mugs of fresh coffee, “round two. What can ya tell us that you didn’t last time?”

Angela accepts her coffee with a sheepish huff. “I would assume that you now know who the Reaper is under that mask.”

“Yer damn right I do,” Jesse growls as he sits with his own coffee. “An’ not only am I pissed as all hell, I’m real hurt that you weren’t straight with me, Angie.” His eyes bore into Angela, who looks down sadly at her hands. “How long have you know Gabriel was still alive?”

Angela stays silent, looking increasingly uncomfortable. Hanzo wants to feel sorry for her, but if she had known from day one that they were dealing with the Reaper, a.k.a. Gabriel Reyes, and she didn’t bother to tell them, then she’s as bad as Ana.

Worse; Ana had at least told them about the Reaper and what to expect of him. Angela had played dumb and pretended that she hadn’t known anything about who they were hunting. 

The witch’s shuddering breath snaps Hanzo out of his thoughts. “You have to understand, Jesse; Ana made me promise not to tell anyone.”

Jesse’s grip tightens on his mug. “What?” he whispers, deathly quiet.

“You know how close they were; she wanted people to remember him for who he was, not what he has become.”

Jesse adopts an exceptionally bitter look. He drops his glance to his metal hand, which is clenched into a fist. Hanzo steps in:

“You did not answer the question: how long have you known that Gabriel was still alive?”

Angela’s skin pales. She inhales shakily, looking to the both of them with damp eyes, and her gaze finally settles on Jesse.

“I was there to dig him out of the rubble. And I was the one who revived him.”

“Revived him?” Jesse asks raggedly. “Y’mean, made him into… into-?”

“Gabriel was definitely dead,” she interrupts, “but he… his body was still _healing._ His… his injuries were extensive, but the skin was fixing itself. He had no pulse, but he was healing. I… I thought that I could help, that I could bring him back without blood magic or anything dubious, because his body was also working to heal.”

Jesse closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t quite know. But I suspect it has something to do with the side effects of the HEP. Not to mention that Gabriel always had… shall we say, ‘difficulties’ with self-healing.”

“I remember,” Jesse says. He looks at Hanzo quickly. “Gabriel always took forever to recover from a scratch or cut. His skin’d get all bruised an’ purple before it’d start healing properly.”

The demon tilts his head quizzically: “So could this be how the Reaper heals himself? When he is injured, he breaks his body down further so that it will actually begin to heal?”

“I believe that is how it works,” Angela says nervously. “I mean, his body shifts into smoke when he is injured, so I believe he needs to break his body down almost completely before it can regenerate.”

“So… what happened next?” Jesse asks raggedly. He looks determined, but the downward twist of his mouth suggests uneasiness. 

Angela adopts a similar expression. “Well, I used my healing magic. I focussed on getting his heart started. And... and it worked, but it was the worst possible result. He… wasn’t himself. It was like this, this _creature_ had Gabriel’s knowledge, his memories, but none of his soul. And his voice-” Angela chokes her last words out, before composing herself with a deep breath. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I could save him.” She looks to Jesse imploring him to meet her eyes. “Jesse, I am so sorry.”

But his hunter doesn’t open his eyes; he keeps breathing deeply for what feels like an hour. Eventually he speaks up, voice dangerous and low:

“Anythin’ else?”

Angela looks to him with a shocked expression, her hands clasping each other more tightly. “Anything… else?” she says weakly.

“You knew Gabriel was still alive. Ya knew _how_ he was still alive, an’ ya kept it from me, Ang. What else are you hidin’?” 

Her brows shoot right up, and her pale skin turns even lighter. “Honestly, Jesse, I didn’t tell you because Ana made me promise. She might not want-”

“Angie, I hate to say it, but fuck what Ana wants.” 

Hanzo pulls his glare away from Angela to stare at his hunter in disbelief. Did he seriously just say that about the woman that is like a second mother to him?

Jesse catches Hanzo staring. “I mean it. She put both of us in danger by not tellin’ us who the Reaper really is. If there’s somethin’ else she don’t want me knowin’, I say fuck what she wants an’ just tell me.”

“I… I don’t know. It might be better for your sake-”

“Je- _hee_ -sus, Angie!” snaps Jesse, a fierce glare on his face. “What could possibly be worse than knowin’ Gabriel’s alive and actin’ like a grade-A asshole?” He slaps his metal palm on the table suddenly, causing both Angela and Hanzo to jump. “No more secrets, God dammit! When Gabriel died-” Jesse cuts off abruptly, and his metal hand grips the table dangerously tightly. “When Gabriel died, I swore to myself that I would do everything legit; no more shady dealin’s, no more questionable jobs, no more illegal shit. Too many times I had to put on a big, dumb smile an’ pretend nothin’ was wrong.” Now he looks up at Angela, imploringly. “Please, Angie – no more secrets.”  
The witch hesitates, looking thoroughly conflicted. She drops her eyes and taps her nails against the table nervously. Finally, she takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes.

“Jack survived that explosion as well.”

Jesse pales and swallows thickly, eyes still on Angela. She continues:

“He almost didn’t. He wasn’t going to make it, and the only way to save someone that has lost that much blood is to turn them.”

The table starts creaking dangerously as Jesse’s grip tightens. 

“Turn them?” Hanzo asks, dreading the answer.

“As in, turn them into a reborn vampire.” She inhales heavily and looks back up at Jesse and Hanzo. “So there you have it,” she says thinly, “Gabriel and Jack are both still alive. Just undead.”

They sit in a heavy silence, thick and tense. 

“Get out,” Jesse growls suddenly, dangerous and low.

“W-what-?”

“Ang, I can’t have you in my house right now. I need you out.”

She looks at Jesse desperately, but he won’t meet her eyes. So she stands and leaves through the front door, sobbing all the way out. Jesse still sits unnervingly still, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. Hanzo doesn’t want to break the silence; he wants Jesse to take his time digesting some pretty fucked up news given to him by one of his closest friends. He lets his hunter sit still – until he hears his breath shudder.

“Jesse?” Hanzo whispers, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jesse immediately jerks away from the touch, sobbing with ragged breaths. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo repeats, utterly heartbroken; he’s never seen his hunter so distraught, so upset. And he’s never pulled away from the demon’s touch. Hanzo flicks his tail, not even hearing the obnoxious thumping against the table leg. He waits for Jesse’s sobbing to slow before trying to put a hand on his shoulder again. This time, Jesse allows it.

Hanzo slowly moves closer to Jesse, pressing as much of himself against his hunter as he can. His cheek ends up on Jesse’s shoulder, his hand having moved to the opposite one. Eventually, Jesse’s breathing evens out, growing quieter and more stable. Hanzo stays still and silent, just the way Jesse does with him when he’s upset – eventually, he’ll speak up.

“Th-thanks, Hanzo,” Jesse whimpers. Hanzo doesn’t say anything; instead, he rubs Jesse’s shoulder reassuringly.

Finally, Jesse wiggles out of the demon’s grasp, sitting more upright so that their faces are level. 

“I need to see if Angie’s still here.”

“Why?” snaps Hanzo. “So she can lie to you again?”

“She’s one of my best friends. Can’t have her leavin’ here after a spat.”

“A _spat?!_ Jesse-” but his hunter won’t hear it; he gets up and heads on outside. Hanzo gets up and follows, and they both spot Angela still sitting in her car, crying into her hands. Hanzo stands resolutely in the doorway, but Jesse walks right up to the car. He taps on the window gently, and she starts. She takes one look at Jesse, and gets out of the car to wrap him in a fierce hug.

Hanzo waits at the door impatiently while the two cry in each other’s arms. Despite the both of them crying and being a fair distance away, Hanzo can still hear every word they say. Apologies and reassurances and other such things that feel oddly private, despite the fact that the both of them are talking rather loudly out the front of Jesse’s house. 

He moves back into the house, tail flicking in wide arcs. He knew that Angela knew something about the Reaper situation, but to learn that she was so heavily involved in it had really thrown him. _The road to Hell is paved with good intentions._

He pours himself a large glass of water and slams it down quickly. It does nothing to help his nerves.

He just about jumps a foot in the air when Jesse comes back into the house and closes the door behind him. 

His hunter walks straight to the couch without a sound, practically throwing himself on to it. He lets out a heavy sigh and buries his face in his arms. Hanzo moves to sit beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his hunter’s lower back. 

“Hanzo,” Jesse mutters into his arms, “why is the world goin’ to shit right now?”

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he just lies across Jesse’s back slowly, nuzzling into his neck, letting out a heavy sigh. They lie in silence for a good two minutes, before Jesse speaks up:

“Sweetheart?”

“Hn?”

“Could ya… y’know, lie on top of me properly?”

“Properly?” Hanzo repeats.

“Yeah, y’know, like… naw, never mind.”

“Jesse, whatever you need, just tell me.”

“Naw, this is fine.”

But Hanzo won’t have it; he gets up and climbs on top of Jesse, hips pressed firmly against his backside, and chest resting on his back. He then wraps his arms securely around his hunter. He feels Jesse’s body relax.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Jesse breathes, sounding as if he’s about to fall asleep. “’S jus’ what the doctor ordered.”

Shortly thereafter, Jesse does indeed fall asleep. And Hanzo stays wide awake, stewing:

They’ll need to go back to the campsite and help the Amaris defend the pack. They’ll need to talk about the best way to trap and transport the Reaper. 

And they’ll need to tell the Amaris about Angela’s involvement with Gabriel Reyes becoming the Reaper.

But not now; now, his hunter needs his rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even moar feels on the way!
> 
> And honestly, Jesse. Don't ask a demon to be romantic - their ideas of romance are very different to ours XD


	7. Whereabouts Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I need to update more regularly than once a month! I can smash this chapter out easily!
> 
> Also me: *gets chapter out exactly one month later*
> 
> I'm sorry for keeping you waiting! I haven't had much time for writing lately, and I've been flitting back and forth between this chapter and the next, so hopefully you won't remain in suspense for all that long :)))
> 
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________
> 
>  **And as per the last major edits with parts 1 and 2, I will be marking sex scenes with this:** !~*~!
> 
> So if you want to skip passed it, just ctrl + F and find the second thingy

The demon and his hunter head back to the wolves’ property later that afternoon. Jesse had awoken rather grumpy, insisting that the two of them should have returned much earlier, with Hanzo insisting just as fiercely that Jesse needed some rest.

They agree to disagree, and get back to the campsite, where the wolves have pushed back into their territory, away from the forest and back onto the plains. Jesse and Hanzo do a quick perimeter check, but Ana and Fareeha have reset all of Jesse’s traps and protections to their original positions. Despite the shake-up of the last few days, the Amaris had held down the fort without incident.

The hunters only need to stay for another two days – after that, the wolves will have their shift. And even an undead knows better than to try and take down a large pack of wolves once they’ve shifted. 

The younger wolves go into their shift a full day before all of the older wolves begin shifting. Hanzo can’t help but stare; not only does their fur look quite coarse and rough, but they look a lot more solid and fierce than Jaime did when he shifted. Perhaps it is because these wolves are quite stocky and wide in human form – Jaime in wolf form was wiry and lanky, much like his human form. 

Once all of the wolves have shifted, the hunters and demon stay on another day just in case, but the Reaper doesn’t show up again. Hanzo figures he was badly injured by the oni spirit, and thus would need a while to heal, ideally consuming souls to heal faster. But they don’t know his hunting routine, and they have no way to track him; they will just have to wait and see what happens after the wolves come out of their shift. 

They go back to their respective homes; the Amaris drive straight onto the freeway, while Jesse and Hanzo take the main roads back to the house. 

Lúcio contacts them, letting them know that the hit thread had a spike in activity, supposedly coming from the Reaper letting the contractor know that the hit was failed, and that he’d have to try again later. 

_“It’s a huuuuge mess, McCree,”_ he sighs over the phone. _“I’ll keep an eye on it for you, let you know if I can get Reaper’s position before he gets away.”_

Jesse sighs, tired. “Thanks, kid.”

_“Hey, Jesse?”_

“Yeah?”

_“Take it easy. Have a bubble bath or something.”_

“Alrighty, then,” Jesse laughs. “Thanks again, Lúcio. Yer a real pal.”

_“You know it! Say hi to Hanzo for me.”_

He ends the call, staring at the floor. Hanzo waits, still. Finally, Jesse’s tense shoulders drop, and he lets out a heavy breath. “I need to lie down fer a spell,” he whispers.

“As do I,” Hanzo says gently, rolling his ankle as much as his boot will allow. “I need to get out of my battle clothes.”

Jesse agrees with a gentle grunt, and they both head to the bedroom. Hanzo pulls off his boots, his untucked _hakama_ hem fanning out and falling just below the ankles. He leans casually against the bedside table. He finds that it’s the perfect height to sit on, so he plants his backside on it, his toes nudging the floor comfortably. He watches Jesse sweep his cloak off with a practised swish before he moves on to removing all of his various belts and pouches.

Jesse gets undressed slowly, removing all of his armour first, and then all of his clothes, stripping down to his boxers. 

“God,” he rasps as he pulls his undershirt off, “what a fuckin’ day.”

Hanzo watches hungrily, overcome by sudden lust as Jesse’s muscles pull and stretch. When was the last time they had indulged in each other? He flicks his tail, deciding on his course of action. “Come here, Jesse.”

His hunter goes, falling into his arms and nuzzling at his neck sweetly, but there is no heat to his movements. _Damn._ Hanzo puts his disappointment aside and focusses on comforting Jesse; it had been a rough few days for all of them, but Jesse has definitely been the worst off.

“How’re you holdin’ up, honey?” Jesse asks suddenly.

“I am fine,” Hanzo says, rubbing Jesse’s back soothingly. “Do not concern yourself with me.”

Jesse hums suggestively. “Kinda hard not to when yer wrapped around me like this.”

Hanzo huffs a tiny laugh. “I am trying to comfort you. But,” he purrs, running his claws gently along Jesse’s back, “if you would like to interpret it differently…”

Jesse definitely chooses the dirtier interpretation; his hands grab Hanzo’s hips firmly, and he kisses the demon’s neck heatedly. Hanzo moans happily as he buries one hand in Jesse’s hair while the other wraps around his solid torso. 

!~*~!

His hunter ruts against him firmly, breathing heavily in his ear as he unties the bulky _obi_ from his waist. They manage to wrestle the _kyudo-gi_ off quickly, and when Jesse licks languidly from Hanzo’s collar bone up to behind his ear, Hanzo can’t help the needy moan that escapes him. Jesse eats it up, kissing him hotly.

He works apart the belts on Hanzo’s _hakama_ , unwinding them agonisingly slowly as they kiss. The demon has half a mind to tear them off instead, and Jesse seems to pick up on his impatience. 

“Easy, honey,” his hunter purrs against his lips, “I’ll make it real good for you. Just you wait.”

“You are being a tease,” Hanzo pouts, his tail swishing with quick flicks. Jesse chuckles quietly, the belts finally loose and free. The demon shifts himself up, and the _hakama_ come off easily.

Jesse wastes no time; immediately, his boxers are off and Hanzo’s cock is in his mouth, and he is moaning loudly around it. Hanzo gasps sharply, watching Jesse’s stretched lips for a moment before placing a hand on his head, pushing the hair out of his face. His hunter looks up, eyes bright and a smirk visible, despite his mouth being full. That sight alone is enough to have the demon licking his lips; Jesse always makes his mouth run dry with little to no effort. 

With the demon’s eyes on him, Jesse decides to put on a show – he pulls away slowly, letting Hanzo’s thick length drop from his lips before he licks along the underside of it, greedy and open-mouthed. 

He takes Hanzo back in his mouth, bobbing and sucking and moaning loudly. Hanzo just watches, gasping and growling and enjoying every moment. Until he gets to thinking.

In the short time they’ve known each other, Jesse has allowed Hanzo all kinds of access to his body. Hanzo, in return, has offered Jesse very little. It weighs on his mind every now and then, but now especially, it bothers him. Because it’s not out of mistrust, but rather, lack of experience. 

The demon looks away from his hunter quickly, feeling ashamed. He had never been affectionate with his past lovers, and he had definitely never let them touch him in certain places. And he really doesn’t want Jesse to fall into that category – he is a lot more than just a casual lover. 

Jesse pulls away slightly, the tip of Hanzo’s cock sitting gently between his lips. He looks up at the demon, imploring.

Hanzo huffs out a sigh; he can’t hide anything from his beloved hunter. 

“Sweetheart?” Jesse has pulled away from him, and throws him a look of concern. 

Hanzo clears his throat, looking down at Jesse nervously. “Can we… try something?”

His hunter hums suggestively, nuzzling and kissing along his inner thigh.

“Depends,” he drawls sweetly. Hanzo chuckles quietly, enjoying Jesse’s mouth on his skin while he gathers his courage. Not knowing how to proceed with words, Hanzo grabs Jesse’s flesh hand and places two of his fingers in his mouth. He relishes the sharp intake of breath. When he removes the fingers and pulls Jesse’s hand lower, his hunter catches on.

He starts with a gentle press, Hanzo reflexively tightening against the unfamiliar intrusion.

“Lie back a little, honey,” Jesse whispers. But he can’t; he didn’t realise how nervous this new endeavour would make him, didn’t realise how much he relies on being able to see his hunter’s face for security. Jesse must see Hanzo’s discomfort, and he stands up, placing his metal palm next to Hanzo’s leg on the bedside table, and leaning forward so that their faces are much closer together.

The demon quickly grabs Jesse’s shoulders, then he levels his breathing. 

“Is this ok?”

Hanzo takes another deep breath. “Yes.”

Jesse moves his finger gently but confidently, pushing in slowly. It’s so wide and thick, Hanzo can’t help but let out a small growl.

“Still ok?”

“Yes, it feels nice… just… your finger is quite big.”

Jesse’s expression immediately becomes tremendously smug. “Don’ know why yer surprised, sweetheart; you’ve seen what I’m packin’.”

Hanzo throws him a petulant look, to which Jesse responds with a gentle laugh and a soft kiss to Hanzo’s forehead. The demon breathes in and out slowly, focusing his energy on relaxing. And not digging his claws too far into his hunter’s shoulders. 

The stretching sensation he feels is so unfamiliar, but it’s oddly satisfying; his legs feel pleasantly tingly, as does his tail. Again, Jesse asks if everything is ok, and again, Hanzo manages little more than a breathy ‘yes’.

With just the one finger, Jesse works him slowly, pushing and pulling gently, but forcefully enough for Hanzo to feel it in his toes, like an electric current running through his body. He lets out a ragged growl when Jesse pushes his thick finger all the way in.

“You like that?” Jesse asks, his voice husky and deep and making Hanzo feel entirely too good. 

“Yes,” he moans, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile. Jesse needs no further words; he pulls out gently, then pushes all the way back in slowly, pressing firmly when his finger is all the way in. 

Hanzo lets out growls and moans, and noises that are a mix of both. The pleasure has him lightheaded, but he remembers every now and then to make sure his grip on Jesse isn’t too tight; he doesn’t want to draw blood. 

But when he feels himself getting closer to the edge, inching ever closer to blissful release, he forgets to check his claws; he holds onto Jesse fiercely, afraid of blacking out but absolutely delighting in the overwhelming pleasure. His chest feels ready to burst. It’s like nothing he’s experienced before; intense pleasure that sits on a baseline, so close but out of reach. Pushing further, but at the same time going nowhere.

He rests his head on Jesse’s shoulder, dancing between feeling amazing and feeling frustrated – he’s never struggled to reach orgasm before.

“Sweetheart, are you ok?”

“…I am not getting anywhere.”

“Is this yer first time with anal?”

Hanzo hopes that his disgruntled huff is answer enough.

“That’s ok,” Jesse coos, “we jus’ don’t know what makes ya tick yet. In the meantime,” his voice takes on a much silkier tone, “brace yerself.”

Jesse grabs him with his metal hand, and Hanzo sees stars. He barely feels the cold metal and artificial hinges – this is the stimulation he’s been needing. He growls loudly into Jesse’s neck, claws running along his hunter’s back.

And then it hits him, intense and all-consuming; it feels fast and drawn-out at the same time and it rattles his whole body. Dark spots appear in his vision, and with a hoarse cry, he bites into Jesse’s shoulder, the sounds of his orgasm muffled. 

!~*~!

When it’s all over, Hanzo flops backwards against the wall, chest heaving and gulping for air. He feels thoroughly wrecked; his mind is hazy, and he can barely string two thoughts together.

He feels like he’s lost consciousness, but he’s dimly aware of peripheral sensations: Jesse’s soothing voice; firm touches against his skin; a soft mattress against his back.

It feels like an hour has passed when his senses fully return to him. It’s then that he realises he’s on the bed, and not up against the wall anymore. Jesse is nowhere to be seen.

Hanzo pushes himself up slowly, looking around their room. Even with that basic movement, his hole burns slightly, as if being stretched again. It’s a strange, lingering sensation, but he finds that it’s not unpleasant. 

He hears noises in the bathroom, so he gets off the bed and slinks over there. He finds his hunter, sitting on a chair facing the mirror and tending to the bite on his shoulder. Hanzo’s blood runs cold.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jesse says cheerily as he wipes down the bite. Thankfully, it’s not bleeding, but there are dark indentations, and the surrounding skin is starting to bruise. There are small scratches along his back, but the bite looks far worse. Jesse looks up at Hanzo through the mirror, and his smile falls.

“Honey, it’s fine,” he says quickly, turning to face Hanzo.

“It is _not-”_ the demon starts, borderline hysterical, but Jesse cuts him off. 

“Hanzo.” He says it with such an air of command, Hanzo can’t help but snap his jaws shut. When he’s quiet, Jesse continues:

“I told ya, I like it rough.”

Hanzo sucks in a quick breath. “You enjoy being cut up?” he growls, unconvinced.

“Well, yeah. As long as it’s because yer havin’ a good time, and not because yer tryin’ to kill me.”

Hanzo glances at him dubiously, but Jesse has a genuine and full smile on his face. The demon sighs thickly, still feeling quite sick. “You are a masochist,” he growls, leaning heavily against the bathroom wall. 

“Naw,” Jesse chuckles. He turns his seat to face Hanzo. “C’mere.”

Hanzo moves closer, but it’s apparently not enough.

“No, come _here.”_ Jesse grabs him, and pulls him onto his lap. Hanzo is suddenly aware of the fact that the both of them are still very naked, and covered in bodily fluids.

His hunter doesn’t mind; he cuddles him sweetly, pressing his face into Hanzo’s neck and holding him in a comforting embrace. Hanzo leans into the touch, resting his chin on Jesse’s head, and still feeling quite unwell. Then a thought occurs to him:

“You didn’t get to finish,” he says guiltily. 

“Naw, don’t worry about me.”

“That is an impossible request.”

Jesse chuckles quietly. He runs his flesh hand up and down Hanzo’s back slowly, his touch firm and grounding. But it’s not enough to distract the demon from his thoughts. 

“Yer tail’s flicking.” Jesse pulls away slightly and looks at Hanzo. “You ok?”

Instead of answering with words, Hanzo removes himself from his hunter’s lap, grabs his metal hand firmly and leads him into the shower.

 

~~~~~~

 

Fareeha calls Jesse the next morning, requesting some talk time away from Ana. They visit their usual diner, and when Fareeha arrives, Hanzo finds that she looks oddly skinny, given that she is no longer wearing her bulky armour. She looks just as tall, though, given that her back is always dead-straight. 

“I don’t want to talk about work,” she says glumly, staring at her coffee. “And I don’t want to talk about Mom either.”

“Gotcha,” Jesse says with a cheeky smile. “So… ya been on any dates lately?”

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes, “they’re all the same. Lots of pretty faces with very little substance.”

“Naaaw,” Jesse coos, “I think you can look passed some of it fer one night-”

“Jesse, this one woman was convinced that ‘Egyptian’ was its own language.”

Both Jesse and Hanzo stare, slack-jawed. Fareeha just purses her lips with a smile, as if to say ‘I couldn’t make this shit up’. She continues her story:

“Lúcio saved me from that one; he called me for an update on a case, and when she heard his ringtone, she got really freaked out. So I told her that I was a Satanist.”

Jesse chokes on his coffee.

“I don’t understand,” Hanzo says, rubbing Jesse’s back as he tries to clear his airways.

“It’s a joke Lúcio and I have. Iron Maiden’s Number of the Beast. It’s a song about the devil, but it’s really cheesy and melodic. The chorus is like,” and she adopts a campy falsetto: “Six! Six, six! The number of the beeeeeast!” 

“Well,” Jesse wheezes, “that sounds like Satanism right there.”

“You are joking,” Hanzo laughs, hand still on Jesse’s back.

“’Course not,” Jesse laughs, his throat finally clear. “didn’t you know that everyone who listens to metal is a Satanist?”

Fareeha chuckles. “If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that one…”

They finish their coffee and walk back to their respective cars. Fareeha opens her car door, but stops before entering, a conflicted look on her face.

“Could I… just hang out with you guys for a bit? I don’t really want to go back home yet.”

Jesse snorts, indignant. “Pharah, y’don’t even need to ask!”

“I know, I just…” Fareeha drops her glance, and the silence becomes awkward. Jesse adjusts his posture, cocking his hip.

“Tell ya what; I am so offended right now, I think I’ll jus’ ban you from followin’ us home.”

“Pffft! I know where you live, butthead! I’ll just take the short cut!”

Once they all get back to Jesse’s house, they all notice Clara’s truck out the front.

“She did not…” growls Jesse slowly, drawing out each word.

And sure enough, when they get in the house, a large wolf with a russet coat sits neatly on a chair at the kitchen table. It looks a lot more elegant and fluffy than the werewolves they had just left, with its long rounded snout, and wide eyes with rounded, rather than slitted pupils. Wrapped around its shoulders is some kind of cloak, or shawl; deep blue, with a lighter blue diamond pattern along the hem. It is wrapped in a particular way around the wolf’s chest, with a piece of the fabric draped over the front left arm.

Hanzo stares at the wolf in stunned silence; surely it couldn’t be Clara? 

“Clara, fer fuck’s sake!” Jesse yells. “What have I told you about drivin’ during yer shift?”

The wolf blinks slowly at Jesse, completely unfazed by his angry demeanour.

 _That is definitely Clara,_ Hanzo thinks to himself.

“Wait,” Fareeha says, wide-eyed, “you can _drive_ while you’re in wolf form?”

Clara snorts, tilting her head upwards emphatically, as if to say ‘obviously’.

“She _can,”_ Jesse grouses, “but that don’t mean she _should-”_

“Woah! That is _badass,_ Clara!” Fareeha shouts, a large smile on her face. 

Jesse shoots her a sharp frown. “Don’t be encouragin’ her!” he snaps. Fareeha tries her best to look apologetic, but the effect is ruined when she turns an impressed smile back to the wolf. Clara returns the smile as best as she can, given that she is in wolf form, but her smug expression quickly vanishes when Jesse reaches for his phone.

“I’m callin’ Ma.”

Hanzo snatches the phone from his hands.

“What-?”

“Do not be an annoying little brother,” Hanzo chides. 

_“Annoying?_ Honey, I’m doin’ the right thing!”

“You are being a tattletale.” 

“We’ll make you a deal, Jesse!” Fareeha calls from the fridge. _Wait… when did she walk over to the fridge?_

Jesse narrows his eyes. “I’m listenin’.”

“You’re out of milk. And yoghurt.”

“I don’t eat yoghurt-”

“Oh, and look! You’re out of pasta!” she cries dramatically, pulling open the cupboards. “Tell you what – you let this slide, and we’ll go out and stock up your supplies for you.”

Jesse lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But I would like to make my displeasure clear.”

“Noted,” Hanzo says coyly. He and Fareeha leave the house while Jesse grumbles to Clara about ‘being lucky this time.’

 

~~~~~~

 

Fareeha places their groceries in two canvas bags – one is blue with intricate swirls and patterns, while the other is black with a grainy white drawing of a goat that has an upside-down cross between its horns and a questionable band name on it.

“Did you have to use _that bag?”_ Hanzo asks as they leave the supermarket amidst whispers and stares.

“Yeah, it’s great! Jesse got it for me as a joke, but the joke’s on him – I love Goatwhore.”

A little store catches his eye on their way out; it is small and tucked away, the inside looking dark with dim lighting, and there are hand-made wind chimes on display outside of the store. They are very ornate, and some of them look to be made with bones, or have a piece of jaw bone dangling in the centre.

“Oh, that,” Fareeha says with a smile. “That’s the ‘House of the Occult.’ They have a lot of gimmicky black magic stuff. Totally harmless.”

Hanzo walks up to one wind charm, grabbing one of the bone pieces in his hand – it is real animal bone. He turns back to Fareeha with a questioning look.

She shrugs. “I mean, they use ingredients that _could_ be dangerous if these guys knew how to use them. As it is, chemically treated bones and feathers can’t really be worked with – they need to be fresh.”

Hanzo turns back to the bone in his hands, pouting thoughtfully. When he looks back at Fareeha, imploring, she just shrugs again with a smile and walks right into the store. Hanzo follows quickly. 

The store is mostly filled with herbs and colourful stones, the properties of each item listed in airy, roundabout terms, with far too many flowery adjectives. He spots crystal balls, both the large, garish clear ones, and smaller, darker ones held still with ornate wooden feet. 

He turns to a rack lined with dreamcatchers and wind chimes, which eventually lead to painted animal jawbones and skulls. This section has a large sign that states that all animal products are ‘ethically sourced’ – whatever that means.

It’s then that Hanzo sees a large steer’s skull. The horns are long and flick up at the ends, and are painted a glossy black and dotted with gold paint. The skull itself has gold paint in stripes and zigzags around the orbits and along the rostrum, with occasional flecks of black paint to tie in with the horns. 

Overall, it’s a beautiful and impressive piece. 

“You should get it for him,” Fareeha says nonchalantly. Hanzo looks at her, then back at the skull.

“You do not think it would be… weird?” he asks timidly, feeling a blush creeping under his cheeks.

She raspberries. “Pffft! It’d be weird if you got him something that was still bleeding.”

“No ox livers, then,” Hanzo says, eyes back on the skull. Fareeha laughs quietly beside him.

“This is way better than ox liver.” She nudges him gently. “Besides, it fits the cowboy aesthetic.”

Hanzo’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, come on! You can’t honestly tell me that the cow skull didn’t ring any cowboy bells?”

“What if he thinks I am mocking him?”

Fareeha purses her lips, unimpressed.

Hanzo sighs. “You’re right – that is a stupid thought.”

“Hey, you don’t have to get it for him. I just think it would be nice. And that he’d love it.”

Hanzo does indeed get it. And he carries it to the car as if it were a new-born child, held delicately in his arms while Fareeha hefts the groceries on her shoulders, the Goatwhore bag on display for all of the parking lot to see.

When they return to the house, Jesse’s truck is gone, but Clara’s is still there. Hanzo’s stomach sinks.

“Uh oh,” Fareeha says quietly. She makes quick work of parking, and the both of them enter the house quickly. The door is unlocked, and Clara is no longer in the kitchen. Instead, they hear loud growling and the sound of blunt claws scratching a wooden surface. 

It’s there that they find the office door with a chair wedged beneath the door handle, the growls and scratches intensifying as they get closer.

“Hold on, Clara!” Fareeha calls, pulling the chair away. Hanzo runs to the office door and pulls it open, and there stands a very angry Clara in wolf form. Despite the fluffy fur and the colourful cloak, she looks incredibly scary: her lips are pulled right back, showing off all of her large, sharp teeth; her eyes are narrowed and stormy; her shoulders are hunched, and she looks ready to pounce.

Even though she looks ready to kill, Fareeha still runs to her, holding her large head in her hands. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

A distorted voice calls out from within the office, sounding tinny, as if amplified by weak speakers. 

_“Heeeeeey! What the hell is going on?”_

Hanzo squeezes passed Clara quickly while Fareeha still has her head in her hands. On Jesse’s desk is his phone. Lúcio is on the other end.

“Lúcio?”

_“Hanzo! Hey man, what the hell is happening? I get a call from Jesse like two minutes ago, and all I can hear is growling. Is everything ok?”_

The demon looks at their current situation. “I am not sure,” he says. “The growling was Clara; she is in her wolf form. It looks like she was locked in the office. There is no sign of Jesse here.”

There is silence on the other end for a few seconds.

 _“Fuck!”_ Lúcio snaps. It throws Hanzo – he’s never heard the young man swear before. _“He_ promised _me he’d stay put!”_

Clara growls loudly in response to that.

“Where did he go?” Fareeha asks thinly. The worry in her voice is evident.

_“He asked for intel on Reaper, but I didn’t think he’d run off and chase him! I swear, if I knew he’d do this, I wouldn’t’ve given him that information!”_

“What information?” Hanzo growls.

 _“It was a riddle. Something about an old song and going south?”_ Lúcio sighs heavily. _“It was so damn vague, I didn’t think anything of it. But McCree went all quiet, then promised me he wouldn’t do anything stupid!”_

“So what do we do now?” Hanzo asks worriedly. By the grim set of Fareeha’s mouth, she doesn’t have a good answer. Or a solution.


	8. Help Is on the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! Managed to get this done DESPITE having 2 online quizzes to do, AND a physiology lab report. BUT those assessments are out of the way, and I'm super happy to have this chapter out before the 16th lol. Glad to not have anything hanging over my head for my birthday (which is the 14th :DDD )
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ____________________
> 
> I'm in a bit of a rough spot financially, so if you (or someone you know) is looking for an artist to commission, I'd really appreciate some work :)
> 
> Commission info on my Tumblr: WinterArtStuff
> 
> ____________________

“He didn’t say anything else?”

_“Nope. Just… went quiet. Then I said ‘McCree, don’t do anything stupid.’ And he was all, ‘I won’t,’ the lying bastard.”_

“Technically,” Hanzo supplies, “he did not lie if he went to do something that he didn’t perceive as stupid.”

Both Clara and Fareeha throw him dirty looks. 

_“Hanzo my man, if I were there right now, I’d be giving you the dirtiest look-”_

“I am just pointing out that he technically did not lie!” the demon cries, waving his hands imploringly. He then folds his arms stiffly. “I do agree with everyone here that it was, in fact, a stupid thing to do.”

_“Glad we agree. Now, rocket-lady, anything with the riddle?”_

“No,” Fareeha moans, staring at the sheet of paper holding the riddle on it. 

_“Clara?”_

The wolf lets out a sad grunt, her tail flicking in an agitated fashion. 

Desperate, Hanzo grabs the undead edition of Jesse’s accounts. He flicks the pages from right to left roughly, not really looking at anything in particular, but as he reaches the end, a pink post-it note falls out from between the pages and lands neatly in the demon’s lap. On it, the word ‘Panorama’ is written and circled frantically.

“I don’t think there would be anything we can go off in there,” Fareeha says thinly. 

Hanzo puts the book back onto the table and slowly picks up the post-it between his claws. “Does this mean anything to you?” he asks, showing it to Fareeha.

“No,” the young hunter says hopelessly.

_“What? What is it?!”_ Lúcio cries. 

“The word ‘Panorama’ circled.”

At that, Clara barks loudly, suddenly bouncing off her seat at the table and running to the office. Hanzo and Fareeha follow closely with Jesse’s phone, watching as Clara jumps on Jesse’s desk chair and starts typing slowly and carefully with her claws. Hanzo can only watch on in stunned silence; her fingers are nowhere near as fine and delicate as Jaime’s were during his shift, but she types with little error despite it. 

She loads up a webpage and barks loudly again.

“The Panorama diner?” Fareeha says. 

_“Hey, I think I remember hearing about that place! Supposed to be haunted. It’s on Route 66 somewhere.”_

“Does that even pass through Santa Fe?” Fareeha asks. “I thought it just went through Albuquerque?”

Clara snorts as Lúcio answers; _“Uh, not the touristy parts of Santa Fe. Mostly just abandoned, historical stuff.”_

“Abandoned buildings?” Fareeha says. She sighs heavily. “It probably is haunted, then.”

Hanzo looks at Clara. “What significance does this place hold for Jesse?”

She manages to manoeuvre the cursor to the search bar, and types a single word:

_Hideout._

Fareeha slaps herself on the forehead. “Of course! That must have been where Jesse and Gabriel used to lay low when they were running their covert ops!” Her lips quirk up in a small smile. “Jesse always used to talk about ‘the old haunt’ and how he’d show it to me one of these days. I guess we never got around to it after the Mom drama, then the explosion-”

 _“That’s cool and all,”_ Lúcio interrupts, _“but is this place likely to be where Jesse ran off to?”_

Clara lets out a sharp grunt and nods her head firmly.

“That would be a yes,” Hanzo says to Lúcio.

_“Cool. So… what’s the plan?”_

Fareeha folds her arms firmly. “We are going in.”

  _“Ok. You know the drill – keep me updated, and don’t do anything stupid!”_

Hanzo doesn’t even bother with his battle gear; he just grabs his bow and runs to the door where Fareeha is scolding Clara, holding her car keys out of her reach.

“You have to stay put.”

The wolf makes an affronted whine, then barges out of the door all the same.

“Hey!”

Clara yanks open Fareeha’s passenger-side door with her muzzle and sits down firmly on the seat. 

“Clara, don’t be dumb!” Fareeha growls, grabbing hold of Clara’s front paws and tugging. But she won’t budge; Hanzo guesses under all of that fluff, there is a very solid and muscular wolf.

“We are wasting time,” he snaps. “Let her tag along. It is the least we can do, given that we have forbidden her from driving.”

The young hunter agrees reluctantly, then drags herself into the driver’s seat. Hanzo climbs into the back seat, trying in vain to make more room for himself with Fareeha’s bulky suit taking up most of the back of the car.

Fareeha drives them slowly along Route 66. It’s a narrow, 2-lane road that is boxed in by enormous orange rocks and cliffs. It has Hanzo very unsettled; there are too many vantage points, too many opportunities for an ambush, especially with how winding the road is; it’s almost impossible to see the route ahead. And even when the cliffs on their left side disappear and become a chasm, it still leaves the demon feeling vulnerable.

They pass dilapidated buildings and discarded freight containers (which confuses Hanzo terribly, given that New Mexico is land-locked), everything coated in orange dust. When they reach a run-down gas station, Clara barks at Fareeha, placing a paw lightly on the steering wheel.

“Stop here?”

Clara nods, then points with her snout to a small path that leads behind the gas station. 

They spot Jesse’s car there. Fareeha parks next to it, making sure her car can’t be seen from the main road. Then she rifles through her bags.

“We do not have time for your suit,” Hanzo whispers.

“Not getting my suit. Just the bulletproof vest and my pistol.” Once equipped, she gives Clara a hard glare.

“Ok, this time you _have_ to stay put!”

Clara growls, but Hanzo backs up Fareeha. “You are unarmed,” he says. 

Clara bares her teeth and points to them. 

“Your teeth aren’t bullet-proof, fluff butt,” Fareeha says, exasperated. “And neither is your fur.”

She growls again, looks at her paws, then lets out a resigned snort. She sits firmly in front of the car, staring at the two.

Hanzo places his bow across his chest as he and Fareeha approach the cliff face. They both stare dubiously at the narrow, collapsed passages that worm through the cliffs; it’s probably best to stay clear of those.

“So…” Fareeha says, “since I don’t have my suit on…”

“I will scout ahead,” Hanzo sighs. He gets himself ready to scale the cliff side, but Fareeha taps him on the shoulder. She holds out his comm.

“You left it at the campsite. Figured now is a good time to give it back.”

Hanzo takes it gingerly, then puts it in place. “Thank you.”

Fareeha just nods, then waits for him to get into position. 

He gets a running start, then pulls himself up onto the first ledge. His feet barely sit above Fareeha’s head from this height, so he climbs higher, reaching a ledge that affords him a view of the gorge to the left of the road.

The demon takes stock of the environment: tall, towering cliff-faces where he stands, and a sheer drop on the other side of the road. The other cliffs across the gorge look too far away, even for a powerful sniper’s scope.

He walks further along the cliffs, where he can see the front of the gas station; it is called Big Earl’s. Further along the road is an old dusty sign that reads ‘Welcome to Deadlock Gorge!” with a spray painted ‘GO AWAY’ scribbled in the corner. 

He rounds the next corner slowly, peering around the curve. A large, flimsy bridge spans the canyon. But where it meets this side of the cliffs, it has broken apart. A few train carriages still linger on the bridge, and wires and loose metal dangles precariously, pushed by the autumn breeze. The rest of the carriages have fallen onto the road, scattered but still whole.

“There is a derailed train ahead,” Hanzo says over the comm, “you can take cover behind the carriages.”

_“Affirmative. Moving ahead now.”_

They round the twisted road slowly, Hanzo up high with his eyes on the cliffs and caves, and Fareeha with her eyes on the ground. As he gets closer, he sees a beaten-up neon sign that reads “PANORMA DINER”. He moves closer and takes in the Panorama. It’s a large building that looks in surprisingly good shape, given the dilapidated state of the other buildings they had passed on the way up. The roof is pink, or appears pink, given the coat of orange dust that covers everything on this section of Route 66. There is a concrete deck, and glass doors that haven’t been smashed in or boarded up. Hanzo’s eyes wander to the right, where there is a smaller door that looks as if it leads under the diner.

_“Diner is in my sights. I can’t see anyone in there.”_

“Hold on,” Hanzo says, feeling the fletching of the arrows in his quiver. He feels the arrow he is looking for, nocks it, and shoots it onto the concrete decking. It skids for a second, then wedges itself in a corner and starts emitting its specialised frequency.

It shows nothing on the main diner floor, but underneath the diner, there is a faint signal. Hanzo sees a single tall figure with wide shoulders and long, gangly legs. 

_“Wow! That is super handy!”_

Hanzo huffs coyly. “Do you want to go in first, or shall I?” 

_“Go for it. I’ll take the little door on the left and make sure the upper floor is actually clear.”_

Before he begins his descent, he checks the roof for any signs of occupation. Seeing none, he walks straight through an empty train carriage, which slopes gently down to ground level. He walks carefully alongside the concrete decking, towards the glass door. 

Hanzo approaches cautiously, bow nocked. He watches to the very last second, when Jesse’s signature disappears. The last he sees of his hunter, the man is heading towards the very door he is about to enter.

The demon decides to wait, not sure if he should have his bow drawn or not. He doesn’t get to contemplate for long; his hunter walks heavily towards the door, and pushes it open clumsily without even looking out of the little windows first. 

Jesse’s eyes widen, and his whole body stops, going rigid and impossibly still. 

He smiles weakly, looking terribly guilty. “Hey, honey.”

Hanzo goes from feeling very relieved to very angry in the space of half a second.

“Don’t you ‘honey’ me when you scared us half to death!” he snaps. Before Jesse can sweet-talk him out of his anger, he snaps again:

“Are you alone?”

“Uh…”

“Jesse, do not test my patience. Is there anyone in there that I should be worried about?”

Before Jesse can respond, Fareeha exits through the main double door on the decking. “Nope,” she says shortly, causing Jesse to jump, “all clear.”

“Jesus!” he gasps, looking up at her while clutching his heart dramatically.

“Just Pharah is fine,” she teases. She tucks her pistol into her pants, then leans casually against the railing of the deck. “For someone so smart, you do some pretty dumb things.”

“I will choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Then I said it wrong.”

“Hey, Reaper never tried to kill me,” Jesse whines defensively. “Just wanted to talk, remember? Ain’t like my life was ever in danger.”

“Did you have a nice talk?” Fareeha asks with a sarcastic tilt to her head. 

“Look, I’ll explain everythin’ when we get back home.”

“You will explain everything here,” Hanzo growls, lowering his bow and pulling his shoulders back. Even though he is nowhere near close to matching Jesse’s height, his hunter fidgets nervously. 

“Sweetheart-” Jesse quickly changes tact when Hanzo throws him a poisonous look. “Hanzo… look, I _will_ explain everything, I promise. We just need to get home first.”

“Why?” Fareeha asks.

Jesse shoots her an annoyed look. “What I got to say ain’t just fer your ears. I don’t wanna have to repeat myself.” He looks at Hanzo pleadingly. “Please?”

Hanzo is torn between forgiving his beloved hunter immediately, and wanting to stay mad to teach him a lesson. He looks at Fareeha for support. She nods her head minutely. And with that, they relent; they all walk back to the parked cars together. When Jesse spots Clara, he stiffens. 

“You brought Clara along?” he snaps, incredulous.

“You ran off on your own to meet Reaper?” Fareeha counters sarcastically. 

Jesse stares at her for a long moment, but he eventually turns away. Clara, for the most part, just glares at her brother accusingly, but does nothing else. 

When Fareeha climbs into the driver’s seat, Clara moves to the passenger side and climbs into the car as well. Hanzo gets in the car with Jesse, the both of them silent as the engine starts up and the car starts moving. His hunter is nervous, looking at his hands while he talks. 

“I’m sorry, Hanzo,” Jesse says suddenly. “I just… it’s complicated.”

“It is a half-hour drive,” Hanzo growls. “That is plenty of time to make it _un_ complicated.”

Jesse sighs heavily. “I told you how Gabriel saved me from life in prison. So I guess I have some weird loyalty to him. I don’t wanna give up on him. I didn’t believe that he just up an’ decided to be an asshole outta nowhere. And I was right.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain when we get home. But all you need to know fer now sweetheart is that I’m sorry, an’ that we can fix this. We can save Gabriel.”

Hanzo looks at him dubiously, thinking of the Reaper and his cruel laugh and his petty mind games. Weird loyalty, indeed.

Still, the way that Jesse has his jaw clenched shut speaks volumes. 

“There is something else you are not telling me.”

“I said we’d talk when we got home.”

“No, with regards to Gabriel and your relationship-” 

“I _really_ don’t wanna talk about that right now.”

Hanzo growls, turning to face the window. “We cannot keep doing this to each other.”

There is a heavy and uncomfortable silence that falls between them. When Hanzo looks back to face Jesse, the hunter meets his eyes, and looks away quickly.

“I don’t know what you wanna do about it. I mean, we could always exchange information if it’ll finally get the both of us talkin’?”

Hanzo narrows his eyes, not liking where this is going. “An exchange?” he repeats.

“Yeah, like question for question. Satisfactory answer for satisfactory answer. Quid pro quo.”

The demon hesitates; this could end badly. But at the same time, it could be the best way for the both of them to finally open up, to finally confide in someone. And to stop with all of the secrets between them.

“Fine,” he says. “Ask of me what you will.”

Jesse’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. 

“So. Yer a powerful demon with powerful magic.”

“Is that your question?”

“I’m gettin’ there.” Jesse clears his throat. “When you were scarin’ hunters away from Hanamura, none of them were enthralled. If you got the magic, and the power, wouldn’t it be easier to do some mind-control shit?”

Hanzo rests an elbow against the window, looking at Jesse with his head tilted. “It would have been less effort initially, but you should know that those who are enthralled are only loyal while under a spell. And it is not as much fun.”

“What?”

“You cannot tell me that watching someone’s eyes, their whole face change when they realise something, when they learn something, when they change their mind because of the case you have made. Is that not satisfying?”

“… I guess it is. In a creepy kinda way.”

Hanzo chuckles lightly. Then he braces himself for the incoming drop in mood.

“My turn; what was your relationship with Gabriel Reyes?”

Jesse sighs heavily. “I don’t know if I told you, but Clara an’ I never got along when we were kids. Even when we were teenagers, we jus’… hated each other I guess. Don’t know why or what it was, but anyway, when I met Gabriel, he was… he was just the coolest. Like the older sibling I never had; he’d buy me ice cream, hide my hat, fun stuff Clara never did with me because we were too busy fightin’. Like, he was my CO, but we had each other’s backs, on or off a hunt, no matter what… An’ I let him down.”

“You feel guilty?” the demon asks gently.

“When the HEP caught up with him, he jus’ wasn’t himself; started sayin’ really mean-spirited stuff all the time, or he had this look, like he wasn’t really lookin’ at you, jus’ through you while his mind was somewhere else. 

“And like everyone else around him, I dismissed it as HEP catchin’ up with him. Remember: a lot of those hunters didn’t make it. And of those that did, they didn’t live all that long. Jack, Gabriel and about five others lived past forty. I was gettin’ ready to say goodbye as it was. 

“But… thinkin’ back on it now, somethin’ was way off about the whole thing. Jack wasn’t deteriorating that fast, and he wasn’t losin’ his mind like Gabriel was.” Jesse releases a heavy sigh. “I shoulda seen it coming. I shoulda done more.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Hanzo says soothingly, placing a hand on Jesse’s leg.

“I can’t help it,” Jesse says weakly. “It wasn’t fair for any of us to dismiss him goin’ downhill just ’cause he was a cynical sonovabitch.”

“You can, and you must.” He begins rubbing his hunter’s leg gently. “We see so much more with the benefit of hindsight, but sadly, hindsight is a double-edged sword. You cannot expect to have known then what you know now.”

Jesse inhales loudly. “You’re right.” He drops his gloved hand off the steering wheel, covering Hanzo’s with it. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” Hanzo watches Jesse’s face thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “Your answer was more in-depth than mine. Did you want another question?”

Jesse eyes him sideways, a sly smile forming on his lips.

“Oh no,” Hanzo deadpans, trying to fight his smile.

Jesse’s voice comes out in a thick, sweet drawl that gets Hanzo’s pulse pounding in his throat. “How come you don’t ever wear underwear?”

Hanzo bursts out laughing. “That is your question?”

“Hey, I’m a curious fella!”

Hanzo chuckles, shaking his head in an amused fashion. Jesse just smiles widely at him. “Very well. I do not enjoy wearing underwear because it is uncomfortable. If you had a tail, you would understand.” 

“So why don’t you just cut a hole in yer underwear?” Jesse teases. 

“That would be silly.”

“What about them battle thongs from those old samurai movies?”

_“What?!”_

“Y’know. Them cotton ones that start off as a big-ass cloth, and ya wind it all up an’ tuck everythin’ in.”

Hanzo blinks. “You mean _fundoshi?”_

“That’s the one! _Fundoshi.”_

Hanzo slaps his face with his palm, not sure where to start with Jesse’s basic education regarding traditional Japanese attire. “Firstly,” he says, trying not to laugh, “never, _ever_ call it a battle thong ever again.”

“Alright, I hear ya,” Jesse says cautiously. “Didn’t mean no offense.”

Hanzo waves a hand at him. “None taken. Secondly, they were not always worn by samurai or warriors; they are a general undergarment for men. Or, they were.” He shakes his head. “I must confess I do not know too much about that particular part of human culture.”

“Well,” Jesse says a little loudly, “I think I would enjoy seein’ you in some _fundoshi.”_

Hanzo snorts. “Good luck with that endeavour.”

“Aww, c’mon, baby! I got sexy underwear to put on! You should get some too!”

“If you are referring to those demon tail undergarments, you were insistent that they were a joke.”

“They can be a sexy joke.”

“Ridiculous,” Hanzo chuckles. 

When they get back to the house, Clara and Fareeha are still in the car. And when Hanzo and Jesse step out and approach, the music that reaches them is deafening. 

“Hey, took you guys long enough,” Fareeha says. As she reaches to turn the car off, Clara places a paw on her hand and growls.

Fareeha rolls her eyes. “I know. Under normal circumstances, I would wait until the guitar solo, too. But these aren’t normal circumstances. And _someone,”_ she levels a glare at Jesse, “needs a talking to.”

This appeases Clara; both of them get out and follow the demon and his hunter back into the house. Everyone sits at the kitchen table comfortably, but Jesse moves about, tidying and fidgeting.

“Jesse, why?” Fareeha says, exasperated.

“Gotta make room; Angie and yer mom are on their way over.”

“Angela?”

“Yup. She made the mistake, she can damn-well fix it.”

“What?!”

Jesse pales. “Oh. Whoops.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Fareeha jolts up out of her seat, hands splayed but still gripping the table fiercely. 

Hanzo steps in; “Angela found Gabriel Reyes dead in the debris of the explosion. She is responsible for reviving him and creating the Reaper.”

“No…” Fareeha almost drops into her chair, her face unnervingly pale. Clara sits next to her, looking at the floor with wide, confused eyes. Suddenly, the young hunter looks back up, searching Jesse’s face. “Does Mom know?”

“Of course Ana knows,” Jesse growls, “that damn woman has a finger in every pie.”

Fareeha doesn’t respond to that; she looks occupied with making sure she doesn’t throw up.

“Anyway, she wants me to leave this alone. Apparently the job’s fer her, Angie an’ Jack.”

“Jack?!”

Jesse winces. “… ah, Hell. Sorry, Pharah-”

“Jack is alive?! What… what…” She shuts her eyes, lips pulled downwards in a scowl. 

“Uh… you ok?”

“I am trying _very hard_ not to start swearing.”

“Oh.” Jesse looks quite upset, and he starts fidgeting with his metal fingers, feeling the joints with his flesh hand. Clara shoots him a scathing look before placing a paw on Fareeha’s leg. Hanzo steps in, placing a comforting hand on Jesse’s shoulder;

“I would have told you when I found out,” he says, looking at both Clara and Fareeha, “but a lot has been happening with this hunt, including my own past being brought to the forefront…”

“Sweetheart, it was not on you to share that-”

“And what if I think it was?” Before Jesse can offer a retort, Hanzo places a gentle hand on his cheek. “You have had a lot happening this week. Let me be of assistance.”

Clara gags loudly, her tongue poking out of her mouth.

Fareeha nudges her. “Leave them alone.” Her eyes then find their way to Jesse’s. “I’m pretty annoyed,” she says sharply, “given that you insist that you don’t like secrets.”

“I was going to tell you after the hunt.” Jesse places a hand on his heart, brown eyes large and imploring. “I swear to you, I’d _never_ keep somethin’ like this from you. I swear.”

Fareeha glares at him dubiously for a bit longer, and then she relaxes, sighing with closed eyes. “This has to have been the worst week of my life…”

“I hear ya,” Jesse says with a heavy sigh. “Well… might as well tidy some things up, get some coffee ready – what on _earth_ is _that?”_

Jesse had walked over to the kitchen bench; right where they had left all of the groceries, and where Hanzo had left Jesse’s gift. Hanzo follows his hunter’s gaze, which is fixed on the painted steer skull. Nervous, he flicks his gaze back to his hunter’s face, checking his reaction; he looks awestruck.

“What is this?” he whispers reverently, running a gloved finger over where the horn meets the skull. 

Hanzo can’t help his biting tone. “It _was_ a gift, but I am not sure you deserve it, given what you have just pulled.”

“Wait, what?” Jesse’s eyes light up, and he smiles weakly. “Y’all got somethin’ fer me?” 

It melts the demon’s heart, and he really wants to forgive Jesse right there. But he was reckless. And stupid. And he had them all panicked and scared. Maybe he could be angry for a bit longer.

“I did,” he says stonily, trying to supress the urge to leap up and hug Jesse and kiss his dumb face. The glowing smile Jesse points at him does not help matters.

“Awww, sweetheart-”

“Do not,” Hanzo growls. 

“Ok, yer mad. I get it. I’ll uh, I’ll move this to the office.” He picks it up carefully, looking down at it with a dumbstruck smile as he takes it away from the kitchen.

“Told you he’d like it,” Fareeha whispers to him. Hanzo smiles fondly at her.

When Jesse returns, he gets the kettle and percolator started.

“So…” he starts awkwardly, “this’ll uh… this is gonna be a real shit-show, huh?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Fareeha says forlornly. “I don’t even know if I want to look at my mom when she gets here.”

Clara rests her head on the young hunter’s shoulder. Fareeha leans into the wolf.

There is a sharp knock at the door, and everyone in the kitchen tenses. 

_Let the shit-show begin,_ Hanzo thinks to himself sarcastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *commences shit-flinging*


	9. The Strength To Go On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update - I really do try to get these chapters pushed out in one month, but I've been pretty flat out for the last month! And I'm doing Inktober, too! Good fun, good fun. 
> 
> Aaaaanyway, please enjoy! It's 5.5k words long because I just couldn't stop writing lmao!
> 
>  **ALSO!** I have a new Art Commissions sheet on my Tumblr! I'd really appreciate any sharing/reblogs, because with my current job, I'm only getting $150 a week, and I has rent and bus fare to pay D:
> 
> I also made a quick post on my Tumblr to allow people to call out anything toxic or harmful I might have written with this little series of mine, because I'm a cis straightie, and as such, I feel like a lot of things would slip passed my notice.

Jesse’s kitchen, the calm centre for breakfast, the small space for close friends and home-cooked meals, has become a makeshift battleground.

Fareeha, who had appeared to have calmed down, is instead standing and yelling at Angela accusingly; Angela yells back defensively. Clara sits protectively between the two, but leans closer to Fareeha, who looks ready to throw a punch. 

“Six years, Angela! Six years of lying to my face-”

“Fareeha, you _live_ with your mother. You _know_ what she’s like-”

“Oh, don’t hide behind my mother like that!”

“I’m not hiding behind her! I’m trying to help you understand-”

Hanzo sits across from them, hands folded in front of him. He’s not really listening, but he’s watching Jesse closely. His hunter doesn’t even react to the yelling, which bothers Hanzo endlessly. If he was sitting and fidgeting, that would be better. As it is, he insists on standing next to the demon and keeping unnervingly still, his eyes distracted and unseeing.

The yelling is cut short by another knock at the door.

“That’d be Ana,” Jesse says blankly, walking to the door. Fareeha levels a nasty look at Angela before sitting down stiffly in her chair. Angela follows suit, taking her seat with a bitter scowl. Clara just stays seated in between them. 

Ana walks in with Jesse close behind her, and her critical eye sweeps the kitchen, looking at everyone gathered.

“What is all this about?” she asks slowly.

“He didn’t tell you?” Fareeha mutters, not looking at her mother.

“No.” Ana looks at Jesse uncertainly, then looks back to her daughter. “Jesse just said it was an emergency meeting regarding the Reaper.”

“That’s because he went and talked to Reaper. On his own.”

Jesse shoots Fareeha a dirty look. “Tattletale,” he hisses. 

Angela’s eyes go comically wide, and her mouth falls open slightly. “You didn’t,” she gasps. 

Clara answers her with a gruff snort and a sharp nod.

Ana just sighs, giving Jesse a tired and frustrated look. “And what did he say to you?”

Everyone’s eyes then train themselves on Jesse.

He inhales heavily. “Well, he basically gave me the martyr speech; I’m no good. Just forget about me. An’ I told him I wouldn’t. That I’d never.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “An’ that’s about it, really.”

“I feel like you’re leaving a lot out,” Fareeha says gruffly, looking to Hanzo for support. The demon nods, looking at Jesse expectantly. 

Jesse visibly hesitates, fidgeting with his metal finger joints. “He told me about how alone he felt when he was deteriorating. How we let him down. How _I_ let him down.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo whispers. His hunter holds up a hand, then readies himself to continue with a heavy inhale. 

“Then he told me about what he remembers about what happened after the explosion. Like goin’ to sleep, but wakin’ up with everythin’ all wrong. Said he felt ‘soulless’ an’ just angry.” Jesse sighs thickly. “An’ that’s when he started with the whole ‘just forget about me. Y’all can’t save me.’ Which I think is total horseshit.”

Jesse looks to Ana, and then to Angela, as if expecting to be corrected. They both remain silent, the elder hunter with her face impassive, and the witch looking quite unwell. 

“What?” He sounds hesitant. “Y’all don’t think he can come back from this?”

“I …I don’t know, Jesse,” Angela says sadly. “Even if I did correct the magic, and he reverted to a more human form, I don’t know that I could fix his mind.”

“He’s still there,” Jesse growls raggedly. “I know he is.”

Angela looks at him sadly. “He suffered major head injuries in the explosion. And it is a well-documented fact that prefrontal cortex damage combined with excessive drug use makes for violent behaviour. The fact that he has become a mercenary and has very little compassion for his targets speaks volumes to me.”

Jesse looks to Ana desperately. She shrugs, shaking her head. 

“There can be no guarantees for getting back the Gabriel we once knew. But,” and she looks at Jesse with determination now, “we will not give up on him without even trying.”

Angela looks at Ana questioningly, but does not dispute her decision.

Jesse rubs his hand down his face, his fingers curling protectively under his chin as his metal hand rests on his hip. When he speaks, his voice a rough rasp; “So what do you suggest?”

Angela clears her throat. “Capture and detainment; a lot may have changed these past six years, and we will need to perform some tests to make sure that we can alleviate his suffering without further adding to it.” She turns to Ana: “Will your sleep darts be enough to knock him out?”

Ana sighs. “The last time we had an… encounter, one dart had no effect. I could try for a stronger dosage, or multiple darts.”

“And what about Jack?” Fareeha asks accusingly, giving her mother a sharp glare.

The elder hunter sighs, sad and heavy. She looks to Angela, who looks away quickly, then to Jesse, who holds her gaze. Finally, her eyes return to her daughter. “I never meant to keep it from you both like this. It just… never felt like the right time to bring it up.”

There wasn’t ever gonna be a right time, Ana,” Jesse says firmly. 

“I know. It was just one of those things, where the longer it goes unsaid, the harder it gets to say anything. I knew it would eventually come to light. I just did not expect the timing would be so poor.”

A weighted silence fills the kitchen. Until Ana looks to Hanzo:

“Hanzo, you have been very quiet on this matter,” she says seriously.

The demon blinks, looking up at her with surprise; he didn’t think he’d be allowed much input, given that he had only met the Reaper, not Gabriel Reyes. 

He sits a little straighter in his chair. “This is someone that was very important to all of you; I can understand why you would go to such lengths for the mere possibility of saving him.” He flicks his tail quickly, looking at his hunter. “As such, I will trust your judgement, and fight alongside you.”

“You do not have any questions you would ask first?” Ana says cautiously.

Hanzo shakes his head gently. “None that are essential for this hunt.” He then folds his arms pointedly. “I think it goes without saying that I will fight alongside Jesse, no matter what.”

Jesse smiles sweetly at him – until Clara gags loudly again.

“Ah, that brings us to our next issue,” Ana says, her cheery voice painfully fake. Clara’s ears instantly droop. “If this was not such an urgent matter, I would drive you home myself and confiscate your vehicle.”

The wolf remains completely still, which surprises Hanzo immensely; he has never seen Clara react to anything in a way that isn’t disinterest or a loud guffaw. 

“Now,” Ana continues, “I have been in touch with Jack, and he has agreed to meet up with us to discuss our next move.”

“Nuh uh,” Jesse growls, “no way.”

“Jesse-”

“No way, Ana. I only just found out that Gabriel ain’t dead. No way I can handle seein’ two ghosts in one day.”

“You can, and you must. The sooner we meet up with Jack, the sooner we can capture Gabriel and bring him home.”

Jesse places his other hand on his hip, looks at his feet, then exhales heavily. “Fine.”

“It’s settled then; Clara will drive herself _straight home_ and will do so carefully.” Ana fixes Clara with a dangerous glare, under which the wolf shrinks. “Then, we will meet Jack at the diner. If we are all good to go ahead and plan our next move, we’ll reconvene here-”

“No.” Jesse says it firmly and harshly. Ana blinks, but offers no resistance. 

“Very well. We can discuss our next move at my house.” She stands straighter, ready to move. “Shall we?”

Jesse sighs heavily. “Yep. Might as well get this over with.”

Fareeha clears her throat. “We’ll need to think of a suitable punishment for you later, Jesse.”

“Punishment?” Hanzo asks. Everyone in the room begins chuckling. Except Jesse.

“Yeah, uh. Weird tradition.” Jesse folds his arms defensively. “When you fuck up, ya don’t get grounded, or anythin’ like that. These fiends come up with somethin’ cruel an’ unusual.”

“And I have the perfect punishment,” Ana says entirely too cheerily, a large smile on her face. She pulls out her phone.

“Hanzo, do you remember that story I told you about young Jesse in belly dancing clothes?”

Jesse inhales sharply and his eyes widen comically. “You told me you deleted those photos!” he cries, incredulous. 

Ana looks at him, unimpressed. “Please. I deleted them off of my old phone… after I saved them all to my hard drive.”

Clara starts laughing. Or does her wolf-form equivalent; she grunts rhythmically with a wide smile, her shoulders shuddering.

“Ana, please!” Jesse begs. “You can show him some other old photos of me! Not those ones!”

“Why not?” Fareeha ribs. “Are you embarrassed about your old hair style?” Clara snorts and laughs louder.

“Yeah, an’ I was all scrawny back then!”

Hanzo looks to Jesse, then to Ana, and then back to Jesse; he is torn between sating his curiosity, and not wanting to upset his hunter further.

“Can I see them after you, Hanzo?” Angela asks. “I never got to see them because _someone_ whined so loudly, and so they weren’t distributed.”

Hanzo decides that he can indulge his curiosity. “Let me see.”

“Traitor,” Jesse grumbles at him. 

Ana hands the demon the phone, smiling slyly at Jesse, who looks away with folded arms and a pronounced pout. 

Hanzo blinks. The young man in the photo is definitely Jesse – there’s no mistaking that mischievous glint in his eyes, or that wide, playful smile. But the Jesse in the photo is almost clean-shaven, with a tiny patch of hair under his lower lip, and he is quite skinny. And his happy trail is much thinner and finer. 

After he takes in the details of young Jesse, he looks at the rest of the photo: an old, battered leather couch dotted with coloured cushions; a teenaged Fareeha smirking victoriously in the background, her face oddly bare without her tattoo; and finally, Jesse’s playful pose, hip cocked and arms out. 

Hanzo purses his lips impishly, handing Ana’s phone to Angela and looking at Jesse through hooded eyes. “You have filled out quite nicely.”

Jesse blushes fiercely. “Thanks, sweet pea,” he mutters quickly. He is saved from his embarrassment by Angela’s sudden inelegant snort. 

“Oh my goodness! I forgot what you looked like with your naked face!”

The mood is much lighter after that. 

 

~~~~~~

 

They go to their usual diner, which is unusually busy today – the parking lot is full, so they park on a nearby side street. Their group walks up to the diner slowly, Jesse fidgeting beside Hanzo, Angela and Fareeha in front while Ana brings up the rear.

“Are you sure we wanna meet him at the diner?” Jesse asks. “Could we go somewhere… not-so-public?”

“No,” Ana says sternly, “else you would punch him.”

“Damn,” Jesse whispers to Hanzo, “she knows me too well.”

Hanzo eyes him curiously. “You said the two of you never got along well.”

Fareeha raspberries without turning around. “Pffft! That’s an understatement.”

Jesse shoots her a sour look, but Hanzo continues as if he weren’t interrupted. “You will need to elaborate on that at some point.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Hanzo grits out, trying not to lose his patience, “I am tired of feeling left out. Like I do not have all of the information, and like everyone else around me knows exactly what is happening.”

Jesse blinks, his look of surprise shifting to one of hurt. Fareeha speaks up instead:

“I suspect it has something to do with how Morrison would call Jesse dumb all the time.”

Hanzo’s chest tightens. He remembers their conversation not too long ago when Hanzo had questioned his competence:

_Just didn’t expect that shit from you... My whole damn career I’ve been laughed at an’ second-guessed._

He feels sick. He looks at Jesse again, but his hunter won’t meet his eyes. Fareeha pipes up again, this time turning to face them:

“Orrrrr… he might have hated you because you super-glued all of those sequins onto his favourite chest plate?”

Angela turns sharply to face Jesse. “It _was_ you!” She laughs good-naturedly. “Jesse, I defended you! Jack suspected you straight away and I told him he was being unreasonable and was picking on you for no reason!”

That at least gets his hunter to smile. 

As they walk alongside their diner, Hanzo spots a stranger who looks odd and otherworldly enough to be Jack Morrison. He sits in a booth near the window, half of his body in the sunlight, and wearing sunglasses with reflective blue lenses. His unnaturally pale skin almost blends in seamlessly with his silver hair. Hanzo sees two long scars that run diagonally up his face; one across the corner of his mouth, and the other that starts at his right nostril and continues up passed his sunglasses and above his left eyebrow. 

Fareeha slows her pace until she walks on Jesse’s right side. 

“I’m freaking out a little,” she whispers.

Ana places a gentle hand on her shoulder briefly, muttering what sounds like a reassurance before heading into the diner. Angela follows closely. Fareeha still looks ill. 

Jesse takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “We can do this. I got you.”

Hanzo watches Fareeha squeeze back. “I got you, too.”

He clears his throat. Both hunters turn to face him. “For what it’s worth… I got the both of you.”

Jesse throws him a warm smile, and brushes his cheek gently with his metal thumb. Fareeha looks considerably more relaxed.

They enter the diner in single file, Jesse leading and Hanzo bringing up the rear.

Ana and Angela are already seated; Ana now in the sunshine, and Angela on Jack Morrison’s other side. Fareeha climbs into the booth first, sitting opposite Ana. Morrison gives her a curt nod, growling out her name. Fareeha nods back. Hanzo opts to move in next, across from Morrison. 

He rises, holding out a hand. “Jack Morrison,” he says. Hanzo wonders if his voice is always so rough and gravely. He takes Morrison’s hand, giving it a firm shake and offering only his first name. He sits down, and when Jesse takes his seat next to the demon, his leg presses firmly against his. 

Despite the tacky sunglasses, Hanzo can see Morrison’s eyes flit to Jesse’s face. “It’s been a while, McCree.”

“Didn’t exactly make it easy fer us to have a catch-up,” Jesse says harshly.

Morrison just grunts. He looks back to Hanzo. 

“So… what exactly are you?”

Hanzo had forgotten that he was in his human skin. He keeps his face impassive, which is difficult, given that Jesse has tensed up. Morrison responds easily, totally unfazed. “Everyone’s too busy yappin’. Not like they’ll overhear anything.”

“I am a demon,” Hanzo says shortly, before anything else can be said.

“Well, that’s nice an’ vague. Are you a minor demon? False demon?”

“God damn, Morrison! Would you leave him alone?” Jesse snaps. “Barely even met the man and yer askin’ fer all kinds of information.”

“If you’ve brought him along to this little meeting, he’ll be part of our team. And I need to know who I’m working with.”

“Hanzo’s my partner,” Jesse says bluntly. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Interesting,” Morrison says slowly, voice all rough and raspy. “Not often you get non-humans taggin’ along for the hunt.”

Hanzo grunts in a non-committal way, but he suspects Morrison has picked up on the implications of the term ‘partner’.

“So,” Morrison growls, picking up his coffee, “Reaper, huh?”

Jesse rolls his eyes. Ana throws him a warning look, then turns to face Morrison.

“Yes, the Reaper.”

“Been chasin’ him for the past six years. 

Hanzo wonders if Morrison’s voice is normally this irritating, or if it’s because Jesse feels so ill at ease with his presence. The overly-masculine rasp almost sounds put-on.

Something Morrison says rouses him from his thoughts:

“I know Lena and Winston had an altercation with him at some point.”

“Winston?” Hanzo asks. “The forums moderator?”

Jesse chuckles. “Don’t be fooled by the fact that he’s a computer nerd – that guy’s a total badass.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Ana says sadly. “That was when we first suspected the Reaper was in line with a mercenary group.”

“Why?” Jesse asks uneasily. 

“Because he was accompanied by the Widowmaker.”

Jesse falls silent, eyes wide in disbelief.

Hanzo pipes up: “I thought the Widowmaker was a lone assassin?”

“Not since four years ago,” Morrison says gruffly. “She cosied up with known terrorists, an’ Reaper’s right behind her, doin’ the same. You usually catch ’em on assignment together.”

Morrison leans in closer, meaty forearms pressed against their table. “My theory? They got some kind of drug or food source for ’im. Somethin’ that makes his condition easier on ’im.”

“That’d make sense,” Jesse says softly. “He mentioned that ‘they’ made everythin’ bearable.”

“So it could be a relationship out of necessity?” Angela asks, giving Jesse a weak smile. 

“Could be,” Jack growls. “Six years ago, he was angry and reckless. I’m thinkin’ they made him do a lot of ugly stuff, made him earn his keep. Now? He seems calmer, better organised. I think he’s resigned himself to this lifestyle.”

Morrison leans back, taking a large gulp of coffee. Both Jesse and Fareeha tense slightly, but neither Ana nor Angela react at all. _Interesting._

“Now, are you kids gonna order somethin’ to eat?”

Hanzo blinks, wrinkling his nose distastefully. _You kids?!_ Who is this man?

“Naw,” Jesse drawls, “lookin’ at yer face made me lose my appetite.”

“Jesse!” Ana snaps. 

Morrison is totally unfazed. “That’s too bad,” he says. “I already ordered you a burger. Two beef patties, extra bacon.”

Jesse stays rigid. Then he leans back, arms folded like a petulant child. Morrison pays him no mind, and addresses Fareeha:

“Got you sweet French toast. Ice cream and extra berries.”

“Jack,” Ana grouses.

“Mom, I _have_ to eat it! Do you know how rude it would be if I didn’t?”

“Don’t worry, Ana,” Morrison says to the frowning hunter, “I got you your usual steak an’ chickpea salad.”

She smiles fondly at him, posture more relaxed. He looks at Angela next. “Denver omelette with a salad on the side.”

Angela gasps happily. “I love omelettes!”

He faces Hanzo again. “Wasn’t sure what to get you, but I figured if McCree’s been cookin’ for you, you’d enjoy some Southwestern-style huevos rancheros.”

Hanzo nods. “I am grateful for your kindness.”

When their food arrives, everyone eats eagerly while Jack Morrison sips his coffee, looking entirely too pleased with himself. When their meals are finished, they leave the diner en masse, everyone in their separate cars.

Hanzo and Jesse climb into the truck, his hunter’s face twisted in a scowl. 

“Goddamn, stupid, smug sonovabitch. Sippin’ his coffee.” He glances quickly at Hanzo, and he must see the confusion on the demon’s face. “Undead ain’t as resilient to the effects of caffeine. Especially not vampires. Makes ’em all… twitchy.”

“He seemed fine to me,” Hanzo replies gently.

“Fer now,” Jesse shoots back, his scowl deepening as he buckles up and gets the car moving. Hanzo feels obliged to remove that expression from Jesse’s face.

“I have a question for you. But it is your turn first.”

Jesse sighs as they approach a busy intersection. His expression eases slightly. “Nah, you go first. Ain’t got one off the top of my head.”

Hanzo stretches languidly in the passenger’s seat, lowering his voice to a sultry purr. “Do you enjoy being penetrated from behind?”

Jesse breaks at the stop lights with a little more force than necessary, his face completely red. “Uh, yeah. I suppose I do.” He faces Hanzo slowly. “Come to think of it, you never do me doggy style. What’s up with that?”

Hanzo’s smile falters slightly. “That was how it was with the others. I do not want to treat you like you mean nothing to me.”

“Awww, sweetheart-”

“And besides,” Hanzo interrupts nervously, “I… I like to look at you when we…” He stops. He can’t bring himself to say ‘fuck,’ because it’s so casual and dismissive, nor can he say ‘make love,’ because that would be too tacky. He just ends with an awkward “you know.”

“Aww, don’t you get shy on me now!” Jesse teases, a broad smile on his face. He glances at the demon sideways, looking like he’s up to no good. “Y’know I’m pretty flexible, right? I can always turn around to look at ya.”

Hanzo has to swallow thickly and look away from Jesse in the hope that his face doesn’t catch on fire. 

“Hey, don’t get cute; you started it!”

Hanzo just shrugs, still looking out of the window, rather than at his hunter. 

“I… wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

“Well, now it’s out in the open, you are more than welcome to get me on my hands and knees, an’ I’ll do you a solid an’ look back at you.”

Hanzo winds the window down. 

“You blushin’?”

“No!” But he’s still in his human skin; his hunter can probably see his blush creeping along his neck and ears. He hears Jesse laughing behind him. 

When they pull up at the Amari residence, Jesse stops the car, and just sits, his hands still on the wheel. 

He lets out a heavy breath. “Here’s hoping this meeting goes smoothly.”

It does not go smoothly; Morrison tries to lead the hunt, but Jesse won’t have it.

“This ain’t your hunt,” Jesse growls, “You’re bein’ called in as an extra. Stop actin’ like you’re in charge.”

“Listen, kid.” Hanzo watches as Jesse’s metal hand tightens dangerously. “You might think you know Gabe, but I’ve known him nearly my whole life. We fought together, we went through hell together and came back out cut up, but alive.”

“Don’t talk to me like I don’t know him. I might not have known him as long, but he was my fuckin’ _brother._ None of your bullshit erases that.”

 _“I’m_ the one who’s been chasin’ him these past six years. I know how he works, what he does, all of that.”

“And now yer doin’ all that with a team. When was the last time you worked with someone other than Ana or yer own damn self?”

Morrison eyes Jesse critically, his faded blue eyes now clearly visible without his sunglasses covering them.

“And you?” he challenges. “How long have you been working with your ‘partner’ there?”

Jesse scowls. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“McCree, you practically have hearts in your eyes when you look at him. And if you two are together, then we can’t have you on the field.”

“Oh, fuck _right_ off with that shit, Morrison-”

“I mean it. You gotta be focussed.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Ana says sadly. “This will be a very serious and dangerous mission. We cannot afford distractions.”

Hanzo clenches his fists under the table. He expected Morrison to have no faith in him, but to hear it from Ana after they had worked together, however briefly, stung more than he’d like to admit. His hunter places a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Ana, we were fine on our hunt in Australia. We’ll be fine this time.”

Morrison sighs. “We can’t just take your word for it-”

“What about my word?”

Everyone turns to face Fareeha. Her posture becomes more rigid, more professional, and her tone becomes very clipped and clinical.

“I kept tabs on them for that Australia hunt, and that went as well as a mess with networked vampires could go. I watched them work together before we knew what the Reaper was. And when Jesse ran off, Hanzo was able to find him, and stay calm the entire time we were tracking him.”

Hanzo supresses the strong urge to leap up and hug Fareeha. Or give her a big hi-five while flipping Morrison off with his other hand.

Morrison stays silent, face infuriatingly impassive. His eyes leave Fareeha and land on Jesse again. He is patient, but Jesse is not.

“Well, when you make your decision, let me know.” He stands and walks towards the front door.

“Jesse,” Ana says gently.

“Jus’ need a smoke,” he mutters, heading outside. Fareeha goes to follow, until Ana mutters something quick and soft in Arabic. She then turns to Jack, switching back to English. 

“Jack, would you help me prepare some tea?”

“Help with tea…?”

“I would like to prepare that sweet tea you country boys are so fond of.”

“Oh.” Morrison’s face drops the cold façade, and he actually smiles. It’s a small upturn of his mouth, but it softens his face considerably. Hanzo could almost consider him handsome. 

Angela jumps up excitedly, eager to learn how to make sweet tea.

“Hey, Hanzo. I wanna show you something.” Fareeha says as she stands, beckoning with a gentle smile. 

Hanzo follows. She leads him to the backyard, where there are succulents everywhere – more than Hanzo has ever seen in his life. There are many spiky plants that resemble aloe vera, their leaves tall and pointy; there are yuccas and cacti, and along the fence, large pots overflow with various creepers, some leaves thick and colourful, and others bulbous and oddly shaped.

He spots colourful floral arrangements with lots of pale pinks and greens. Except on closer inspection, they are not flowers; thick leaves have formed into rosette patterns, and appear to be coated in a fine powder. 

“What are these?” he asks, fascinated by the little plants.

 _“Echeveria,”_ she says with a fond smile. “They’re my favourite because they come in so many different colours and sizes.” She points to a dark reddish-purple plant, whose petals taper to a sharp point. The middle of the plant is bright green. “I love that colour contrast.”  
Hanzo hums appreciatively. 

Fareeha casts a sideways glance at Hanzo. “I noticed Jesse’s yucca plant is finally thriving, and I figured you had something to do with it.”

Indeed he did. The poor thing was half yellowed and looking very sad. He thinks Jesse didn’t realise that even desert plants need a little care and maintenance. 

He clears his throat. “My family might have been ruthless demons, but we did spend a lot of time blending in amongst humans. It made us harder for hunters to track.” He shakes his head with a sad smile, rubbing the glossy leaf of a large plant. “When you are that close to humans, it is impossible to not pick up on their culture and their values.

“In Japan, nature is very sacred. We take great pains to preserve it alongside our dwellings and structures. This,” he says with awe, “is beautiful.” He spots another plant with bean-like leaves, admiring the vibrant colours. “I did not realise there were so many different plants like this. They are remarkable.” 

“And they’re tough,” she says fondly. They fall into a comfortable silence, which Hanzo breaks with a heavy sigh. 

“Will we need to keep Jesse and Morrison away from each other’s throats?”

Fareeha smirks. “Nah. I say let them go at it and get it out of their system. But if they start throwing punches, we’d have to give Jesse a weapon to counter Morrison’s vampire advantages.” She hums, thoughtful. “Maybe a frying pan…”

Hanzo laughs. “As long as it is out of their system before we begin the hunt.”

“Hey, Pharah?” a sad voice says from behind a small wooden door covered in vines. “There ain’t no ash tray on the porch.”

Fareeha lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Mom threw it out again. Apparently she’s ‘quitting for real’ this time.” She walks to the door and opens it. Behind it is a very tired-looking Jesse, with one of his thick cigarillos in his metal hand.

“Lucky for you,” Fareeha continues, “I fished it out. That way she stops buying new ones when she needs ‘one last smoke’.”

“Thanks, Pharah,” he says weakly. He saunters over to a little green table made of metal that blends right in with the rest of the garden. Hanzo does a double-take to make sure that there are really seats and a table there.

Jesse catches his disturbance, and offers him a sly smile with a wink. Hanzo smiles back and moves to sit near his hunter as Fareeha places an old-fashioned ceramic ash tray on the table. Jesse ashes into it while his eyes roam over the garden. 

“’S always so peaceful back here,” he says quietly. Hanzo hums an affirmative, placing his hand in Jesse’s. His hunter instantly runs his fingers along Hanzo’s blunt nails. 

“Mom wants to get another tall cactus,” Fareeha says. “I want her to get one of the little ones.”

“What is it with you an’ all the li’l plants?” Jesse asks with a bemused smile.

“They’re cute! And they don’t attract big spiders; just the little ones that are easy to manage.”

Jesse chuckles gently, then takes a long pull from his cigarillo. 

The air relaxes a little. Until Morrison enters the backyard, a tall glass of iced, brown liquid in his hand. 

“McCree,” he says simply.

Jesse looks to the glass, then eyes him critically. “What’d you do to it?”

Fareeha rolls her eyes, but Morrison doesn’t even blink. “I pissed in it.”

Jesse grabs the iced tea. “Yer an asshole, Morrison,” he growls, taking a large gulp. Hanzo looks at Fareeha, utterly bewildered. She can only offer him a wide-eyed shrug. 

“You make this?” Jesse asks, not looking up at the other man.

“Yup.”

“Thought so. Ana, bless her heart, she always adds lime, an’ it makes it too sweet.”

“Yeah. She wanted to add raspberries an’ peaches. I think that woman would survive solely on fruit if she could.”

Jesse and Morrison banter back and forth, while Hanzo and Fareeha just look to the two men, then back to each other, then back to the two men again. It’s very strange for Hanzo to see Jesse so gruff and distant. It puts a sour flavour in his mouth; it takes him back to the days when his family were still around. The days where no emotions were allowed, no vulnerabilities could be shown, and certainly nothing genuine could be said. It was all about putting on fronts and airs, pretending that you had all the power in the world, and that everyone was beneath you.

It’s one of the reasons he fell so hard for his hunter; his affectionate, sincere hunter that wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable with Hanzo.

His attention is brought back to the present when Ana and Angela join them, with a large jug of sweet tea, and four more tall glasses. 

Morrison pours himself a glass, Jesse watching him closely. Fareeha points hesitantly at it. “Should you be having more caffeine?”

“Oh, I have a tolerance for it. Ask Angie; she’s been tryin’ to talk me into runnin’ tests to see how it works.”

Angela puts her hands on her hips playfully. “I suspect it has a lot to do with your excessive consumption of caffeine in your first life. Alas, I think it is reasonable that you do not want to be anywhere near labs and needles ever again.”

Morrison shudders. “Nope. No way in hell.”

“Well,” Jesse drawls, “ain’t you the lucky one.”

“Yup. If I had to give up coffee, I think I’d die… again.”

What happens next catches everyone by surprise; Jesse starts laughing. It starts of as a slow, quiet chuckle, and builds into a stronger laugh, but not his usual loud guffaw. 

“God, that was _awful,_ Morrison.”

“You think that was bad? You need to hear the rest of my repertoire.”

“No,” Jesse giggles, “I’m done.”

“Hi, done. I’m Jack.”

Jesse groans, but his amusement is apparent; he sips his tea with a gentle smile. 

Morrison shrugs. “Fareeha likes my jokes.”

“When I was twelve!” she laughs. “Although, when a date isn’t going well, I break out the sandwich at the bar joke.”

Jesse groans louder. “That was the dumbest joke I ever heard.”

Hanzo doesn’t even want to ask. Instead, he sips his sweet tea, enjoying the now playful atmosphere while it lasts; they’ll have to get back to business eventually. But for now, the six of them can relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack "Dad: 76" Morrison, everyone ;)
> 
> A sandwich walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says "sorry, we don't serve food here."
> 
> :DDD


	10. Intermission: Tragedy + Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I will be taking a quick break from writing. Please accept this intermission chapter in the meantime!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! I metaphorically shot myself in the foot with regards to my last exam, and now I need to jump through a lot of bureaucratic hoops to make sure I can actually graduate from a 3 year degree that's taken me 5 fucking years to complete. 
> 
> Aaaaanyway, I wrote this chapter a while ago, and it was meant to be some fluffy garbage at the end of the fic, but it makes more sense to put it here. And it was very relaxing to work on, given the emotional turmoil I'm going through right now :/
> 
> So, uh... enjoy? And if you have the time/energy/desire to leave me nice messages here or on Tumblr (WinterArtStuff), I would be incredibly grateful.

Autumn brings with it a light chill; the air is cool and crisp, but not unpleasant. Hanzo lazes in the hammock in his usual flannel and exercise shorts, while Jesse is rugged up and hunched, trying to enjoy his cigarillo in the cooling weather.

“How are yer legs not frozen off?” Jesse whines, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. 

“It is not so cold,” Hanzo tuts smugly.

“Easy fer you to say; yer warm-blooded.”

“And so are you!” Hanzo laughs. “Unless you are secretly a reptile?”

“Yep. You figured out my deepest, darkest secret, sweetheart.”

Hanzo laughs again. Then he moves himself carefully across the hammock. “You could always join me?”

“Nope. Two people don’t work on that thing.” He adds smugly: “Ask Pharah.”

Hanzo blinks. He makes a mental note to ask Fareeha _all about it._

The sound of a car pulling into the front yard piques their interest.

“Now, who do you suppose…?” Jesse asks, trailing off as he wanders along the side to the front of the property. Hanzo removes himself from the hammock carefully and follows closely. He spots Lúcio’s car, and an excited Hana jumping out of the passenger seat with a large, pink duffel bag on her shoulder.

“Did these two troublemakers say anythin’ to you about comin’ over?” Jesse whispers to Hanzo.

“No,” he whispers back.

Hana beams up at the two of them. Then looks at them both as her smile falls. “He didn’t call you, did he?”

“Uh…” Jesse says.

Hana just grumbles quietly under her breath. “He was _supposed_ to call you. But he’s been flat-out working your case. So now Winston’s doing his work for him so that he can actually have a break.” She wiggles her shoulder, drawing attention to her duffel bag, which Hanzo notices has a white cartoon bunny face on it. “And I have just the thing for a relaxing day off!”

Lúcio approaches them. “Hey guys,” he says, sounding ragged and tired.

“Damn,” Jesse laughs, “you look awful.”

Lúcio’s brow furrows slightly. “Thanks.”

“C’mon, let’s get some coffee into ya.”

Jesse puts his cigarillo out, and they head inside. Hana runs straight for the TV in front of the couch, where she starts to pull out an electronic device and black cables.

Jesse watches her as he sets the percolator. He shoos Lúcio to the couch, and he goes without a fight, dropping onto it and watching Hana plug in her device.

“What is that thing?” Hanzo asks Jesse.

“One of her gamin’ thingies, prolly,” he says. “I hope she doesn’t expect me to play.”

Hanzo remembers Hana mentioning Jesse’s gaming skills (or lack thereof) to him once. “You should play.”

He eyes the demon suspiciously. “Why?” he asks with a faint smile. 

“Because I have heard you are quite good.”

“Now that is one of _the_ worst lies you’ve ever told me,” Jesse laughs. When Hanzo gives Jesse his puppy-dog eyes, his hunter waves a metal finger in his face. “Don’t you try an’ be cute with me! I ain’t playin’!”

“Yes you are!” Hana calls from the TV.

“Hanaaaa!” Jesse whines. “You know I’m no good at that stuff.”

“No, this is a different kind of game!” She bursts into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “Psychological thriller!” she cries dramatically.

Jesse looks at her sceptically. “No runnin’ around with future guns?”

Hana laughs and rolls her eyes. “No, no fancy sci-fi shooters. Trust me, you’ll like this! Thought-provoking plot, and it’s a puzzler!”

“A what now?”

She looks at him flatly with pursed lips. “You get to do detective stuff.” And with that, she turns on her heel and heads back to the TV. Hanzo and Jesse look to each other, and Jesse just shrugs. 

Hanzo watches his hunter add milk and one sugar to Lúcio’s coffee, stirring it gently before looking at it with a pleased smile. 

“How can you smile at something that is _that_ colour?” Hanzo whispers.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til ya try it. Milky coffee ain’t all bad.”

They walk to the couch together, where Jesse hands Lúcio his coffee, then turns to face Hana. “So; run me through it.”

Hana launches straight into it: “You play as Marisol Araya – she was a world-famous paranormal investigator until her pregnant wife was murdered by a hollow – that’s what the game calls these freaky ghost things. They’re different to normal ghosts.

“Anyways, now Marisol just wanders around aimlessly all broody, like a typical game protagonist who lost their wife and child. Like, it’s such an overused trope.”

Jesse nods his agreement, and Hana continues:

“So Marisol’s old friend talks her into taking ‘one last case’ because no one can figure out what is haunting this old couple’s house. And it’s like, high-key implied that it’s the same hollow that killed her wife. So of course, she goes out for revenge, and her friend’s all like _‘Don’t forget who you are! Don’t be blinded by hate!’_ But of course, she’s a broody protagonist, so heads are gonna roll.”

“That’s what you’d think,” Lúcio interjects, “but the game lets you choose if you want to do bad stuff, or if you want to be a decent human being.”

“Yeah! You can play all nice, or you can be a total degenerate and eat rotten birds and stuff.”

“What even is this game?” Jesse whispers with an amused smile. Before Hana offers a retort, he asks “which one did you pick?”

“Oh. I played through three different times.” Hana counts off fingers with a cocked hip; “First time was no holds barred, second was chilled, and the third playthrough was a mix of both to see if it made any difference.”

“You still ate that rotten bird, though.” Lúcio shudders at the memory. “I am telling you, nothing in the game is as scary as Hana cackling while her virtual self gorges on maggoty feathers.”

Once the game is set up, Hanzo watches them play. Or rather, he watches Jesse play while Hana and Lúcio do their best at not backseat gaming. He opts to stand behind the couch while the other three adopt what Hanzo assumes is a standard gaming position; hunched forward with elbows on knees and looks of excitement.

It’s hilarious to watch Jesse acting so twitchy and scared when Hanzo has seen him in action as a confident and skilled hunter. Although, the first-person perspective makes it very difficult to keep an eye on the periphery. If Hanzo was thrown into a haunted house without peripheral vision, without his keen hearing and without any sense of smell, he would be pretty scared too. 

Jesse gets more comfortable with the game’s setting the longer he plays. As Jesse’s character walks up to a bookshelf, a book falls off and lands at his feet. Lúcio jumps slightly, but Jesse doesn’t even blink.

“Oh, ha ha, asshole,” he drawls, “that’s the oldest trick in the book.”

Lúcio groans. “That was awful, McCree.”

“Oh. That wasn’t intentional,” Jesse says with a chuckle. “Watch, I’ll call this shit before it happens. Big obvious frame on that wall, so the ghost, or _hollow_ or whatever, is gunna tilt it, or drop it to the floor.”

And sure enough, the large frame in the distance rotates dramatically before dropping to the floor. 

“If there are more frames, they’ll all move or fall off. Oh, lookee here,” he chirps as his character rounds the corner and ends up in a hallway with walls lined with frames.” A whole wall full of frames! I bet one’ll smack me upside the head.”

Hanzo watches, delighted as Jesse proceeds to call out the various actions of the hollow. Lúcio finds it hilarious, while Hana seems to be getting annoyed.

“Ok, smarty-pants! We get it; you’re an expert.”

“Look, a radio! When there have been no other electronic devices around.” Jesse turns to face his young friends. Lúcio snickers while Hana sits and pouts. “I wonder how close I gotta get before it turns itself on and starts playin’ creepy classical music.”

“Ugh!” Hana groans as Lúcio bursts into laughter.

“That is _exactly_ what happens!” the young man cries, holding his belly.

Hanzo sits in wait, watching as Jesse inches his character closer and closer to the radio. Hana catches the demon’s eye, and she smiles evilly, nodding her encouragement as Hanzo’s hand hovers over Jesse’s shoulder.

As soon as the radio turns on, Hanzo grabs Jesse’s shoulder. His hunter jumps slightly and cries out “Jesus!”

Lúcio jumps as well. “Why would you do that?!” he cries.

Hanzo shrugs. “Hana made me do it,” he says with a smirk.

Hana gasps dramatically. “It was _your_ idea!”

“A li’l quiet, please,” Jesse laughs, “I’m tryna concentrate.”

As the game progresses, and the hollow becomes more hostile to the protagonist’s presence, Hanzo squeezes onto the couch, huddled close to Jesse and watching the screen intently. He notices that Lúcio clings to Hana tightly.

“You’ve played this before, you scaredy cat!” she teases. “You know what happens!”

“Doesn’t make it _less_ scary! And besides, Jesse’s play style is so unpredictable.”

And on cue, Jesse falls through the floorboards and into a dark, concrete hallway.

“Well, shit,” he mutters.

“Gotta keep movin’, McCree,” Lúcio says simply, his calm voice at odds with how he scooches closer to Hana. Hanzo does the same to Jesse. 

“It’s dark as hell. How do I know I won’t walk into a bear trap or somethin’?” Despite that, he moves his character forward, the walls and floor still visible despite the lack of a light source. 

Hana pulls out her phone, filming the four of them on the couch. Jesse gives it a cursory glance before he focusses on the screen again.

“Don’t worry, this is just for us. I won’t post it anywhere. I just want to catch your reaction to what happens next.”

It’s then that everyone spots the silhouette of a small child in the distance. 

Hanzo tenses as Jesse inhales sharply. “Naw. Nuh uh. Nuh uh, no way.”

“There’s nowhere else to go,” Hana says smugly.

“I can go backwards,” Jesse says.

“No! She’ll get closer!” Lúcio blurts out.

“Oh, fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck this stupid game.” 

“You gotta do it, Jesse,” Hana urges, a huge smile still on her face.

“Child, you are a sadist.” Despite that, Jesse pushes on, swearing under his breath as he gets closer and closer to the spectre. Hanzo watches the screen intently, eyes wide and body pressed firmly against Jesse’s. 

When he is about 10 paces away, the spectre disappears. Hanzo blinks, then searches the screen for any sign of the hollow. Jesse inhales slowly, then exhales slowly. 

“I swear to GOD if she’s right behind me…” he says, voice unusually high and strained. If he didn’t have the hint of a smirk on his face, Hanzo would have suggested they play something more light-hearted. But despite the swears and the heart-pounding tension, Jesse seems to be enjoying himself immensely. 

“Why would you turn around? Why would you do that to yourself?” Lúcio whimpers behind Hana as the young woman inches closer in her seat, angling her phone just so.

Jesse smiles widely. “It’s just a game. I can do dumb shit just to see what happens.”

“Jesse, no!” Hanzo barks.

“That’s the spirit!” Hana laughs excitedly. Hanzo throws her a sour look before facing the screen again and gripping Jesse even more tightly.

Jesse turns his character around slowly, Lúcio whimpering “no no no no” under his breath, and finds only the empty hallway he had walked through. His shoulders lower, the tension leaving his body. Hanzo relaxes his grip on Jesse’s arm.

“Phew. Now I’m guessin’ I gotta turn around an’ keep goin’?” 

“Uh-huh,” Lúcio whines, eyes comically large as he hides behind Hana. She has a very smug grin on her face. Hanzo doesn’t like that one bit, but his eyes go back to the screen, his complete attention on what will happen next.

“Ok, let’s see – AAAAAH!”

Right behind Jesse is the little girl, this time floating and twitching erratically. All three men jump and yell, Jesse moving his arms in front of Hanzo protectively, Hanzo clinging to Jesse with both his hands now, and Lúcio hiding behind Hana as she tries to hold her phone still while her shoulders shudder with silent laughter. 

After a few seconds, the spectre vanishes. 

“Oh my GOD that was scary!” Jesse laughs. 

Hanzo laughs too, nervous and quiet. He looks at his hunter, whose eyes and smile are full of mischievous amusement, and he begins to laugh more fully, dropping his forehead onto Jesse’s shoulder. 

“Man, this game is _good.”_ Jesse says excitedly.

Hana regains her composure, and puts her phone away. “You ok, Lu?” she giggles, nudging him with the shoulder he’s hiding behind.

Lúcio begins to laugh as he emerges from behind Hana. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m good. Not sure about my heart, though.”

“Ok,” Jesse says, “let’s get on outta here.” He navigates the protagonist out of the cellar, and she ends up back in the main part of the house. Hanzo resumes his previous position, holding Jesse firmly and watching the screen closely. 

They progress through the game at a moderate pace, Jesse needing to stop to check any evidence lying around, and make comments or speculations about everything he finds.

“Y’know what I think?” he says, looking over the top of Hanzo’s head at Lúcio and Hana. “I don’t think this is the hollow that killed our wife.”

Both young adults share a glance before looking back at Jesse. “What makes you say that?” Lúcio asks cautiously. 

“Well, it said at the start that hollows never forget. But this hollow don’t know her. Why else would it use generic apparitions like dead animals an’ bleedin’ portraits?”

Hanzo adjusts his position so that he can look at Jesse directly. “But she was so certain that she recognised this hollow?”

“She’s also outta her mind with grief an’ anger. Would make sense if she’s just seein’ what she wants to see. Remember at the start, when the hollow was just usin’ simple scare tactics an’ whisperin’ ‘go away’? If it knew her, it woulda been more hostile, an’ a lot more personal.” 

Hanzo pauses, thinking. The game had certainly led them to believe that this was, without a doubt, the same entity that murdered the protagonist’s wife. 

“But now we’ve gone and shot ourselves in the foot, ’cause we’ve pissed this thing off when it’s done nothin’ to us.”

“Hn.” 

Jesse taps the controller with a finger, a contemplative look on his face. “I think we need a break.”

“What?!” Hana cries. “But you gotta finish it!”

“We got all day, don’t we?” Jesse pauses the game, then stands and stretches. “We can’t all be as resilient as you, an’ be on the couch all day with our faces in screens.”

“I’ll have you know my set-up does not include a couch. It is a gaming chair.”

“Same,” Lúcio sing-songs.

“Whatever,” Jesse chuckles. “I’m goin’ fer a smoke break.”

Hanzo stands too, noticing that his muscles are a little stiff. He _had_ been holding onto Jesse rather tightly.

They all head out to the back, where Jesse doesn’t hesitate to start talking excitedly about the game. 

“Ok, so what we got is an angry entity with the ability to create and manipulate apparitions.”

“Jesse, this is _not_ one of your cases,” Lúcio laughs. Hana shushes him, then looks at Jesse as if to say ‘please, continue.’

“As I was sayin’,” he drawls teasingly, smiling at Lúcio, “angry entity creatin’ non-specific apparitions, so this thing doesn’t know me.”

“So why do you hear your dead wife’s voice all of the time?” Hanzo asks.

“The game stressed that she’s been hearin’ an’ seein’ her dead wife a lot. So I think that’s their way of hintin’ that those hallucinations are from her, and not the hollow.”

Hanzo thinks back to the start of the game, where the protagonist is portrayed as grief-stricken and clearly not in her right mind. Then he thinks to every instance of her hallucinations, and how they only occurred when she was alone and no supernatural activity was occurring around her.

“You make a good point,” he concedes. “So then: we are intruders on this entity’s territory and it is enacting swift retribution. Now what?”

“Our best bet would be to proceed carefully an’ make sure we don’t piss it off any more than we already have.”

“There can be no convincing it that we meant no harm?”

“Nope. Non-physical entities play by different rules.”

“Indeed. So all we can do is damage control.”

“Yep,” Jesse hums, fixing Hanzo with a gentle smile. His eyes suddenly flit to their guests, where his smile becomes confused. “What?”

Hanzo looks to them as well, and they’re both smiling widely.

“Anyone ever tell you guys how cute you are when you’re deliberating like that?” Lúcio asks.

Hanzo huffs playfully. “We are professionals; this is what we do.”

Hana giggles. “Professional cutie pies.” 

Hanzo folds his arms haughtily while Jesse laughs. He gives his cigarillo a final chew before putting it out.

“Alright. Break time’s over.”

They all pile back into the house, eager to keep playing. Hanzo wedges himself back in his spot, holding close to Jesse. Lúcio and Hana go back to sitting hunched forward with their elbows on their knees. 

Jesse plays more cautiously, trying to manoeuvre his way through the house without further antagonising the hollow. He gets to the end of the game, where the protagonist is convinced she’ll finally find the link she needed to connect this hollow to the murder of her wife.

But there is nothing: not a shred of evidence to suggest that the protagonist had ever had any contact with the entity haunting this house.

“I told y’all! I called it!” caws Jesse gleefully. 

Suddenly a blanket flings itself at the protagonist, blinding and suffocating her.

“The hell?” Jesse snaps, wiggling the analog sticks frantically to free her. When the blanket comes off, a very large and heavy picture frame is careening towards her. Jesse barely pushes the right button in time to dodge. 

“Run for it!” Lúcio yells. And Jesse goes; he gets the character to sprint out of the room, and through windows, all while the hollow is flinging large and heavy objects, and all while Hanzo, Lúcio and Hana scream encouragement and caution, bouncing excitedly on the couch. 

He presses the wrong button, and the protagonist receives a bloody gash next to her eye. So on top of running and dodging, he now needs to keep wiping blood from her eyes so that he can see what he’s doing. The shouting and bouncing becomes even more intense. 

Finally, she escapes; she flies out of a smashed window, landing heavily on her side and panting thickly. She watches the apparition of a little girl stand at the window before turning slowly and walking away.

“Oh my God, please tell me it’s finished,” Jesse whispers. “I don’t think my heart can take more of that speedy button-pushin’.”

The game concludes with the protagonist staring forlornly at the road she came from. As her vision fades to black, emergency sirens can be heard, and the last thing she sees are blue and red flashing lights.

Jesse exhales heavily. “Well, that was _amazing.”_

“I told you so!” Hana tuts.

“Yeah, good pick, Hana.” Lúcio says. 

Hanzo leans back, sinking into the couch. “That was… intense.”

“Yeah, but it was fun, right?” prods Lúcio, nudging Hanzo playfully.

The demon stops and thinks: they had spent literally the entire day playing games. No, they had watched Jesse play a game all day long. And it was an intense and thought-provoking game to boot. And it was _definitely_ fun.

“Yes,” Hanzo chuckles, watching names crawl up the screen, “yes, it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Nothing matters but the pain when you’re alone  
>  And never-ending nights when you’re awake_
> 
> _When you’re praying that tomorrow it’s ok_
> 
> _There will be a time to crack another smile  
>  Maybe not today, or for a while_
> 
> _But we’re holding on to laugh again some day_
> 
> I needed to share my absolute favourite song from what was Rise Against’s latest album at the time I started writing this. Tragedy + Time is such a beautiful song about being ok with not being ok, and for someone who has struggled with depression as long as I have, I’ve just found it so touching and beautifully uplifting ❤


	11. Worth Dying For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cheese it's been two and a half months! Please enjoy this update :D

Back at their house, the demon and his hunter prepare for what will surely be an intense hunt. They won’t be going after Reaper for at least two days; Morrison needs to pin down his location, and they still need to agree on a defensive strategy. 

Despite this, Hanzo still takes stock of his weapons, making sure there are enough of his standard and specialised arrows, and enough throwing knives in the pouches that attach to his _obi._ Jesse already has all of his armour and equipment prepared; his quick organisation of his things a testament to his 20 years of hunting experience. So while Hanzo takes painstaking effort to catalogue and organise himself for a hunt that will not commence until two days’ time, Jesse readies himself for sleep in the bathroom. 

He takes another look at his arrows: all counted, all sturdy and functional. He looks to his bow: string perfectly intact and flexible. His battle clothes: _hakama_ and _kyudo-gi_ spotless as always, and his boots and knee guards sit neat and ready.

He sighs loudly; there’s only so much checking and double-checking that can be done. He’s as prepared as he can be, but he’s still nervous. Resigned, Hanzo walks into the bathroom. Jesse moves quickly as he enters, and Hanzo just knows he’s hiding something when he offers a casual smile and a cheery “hey, darlin’”.

The demon’s eyes move critically over Jesse’s bared torso, and land on the shoulder that has been twisted away and hidden. 

“Let me see it.”

Jesse relents; he straightens his stance and lets Hanzo look over the bite he had left there. It looks surprisingly healed up; the teeth marks are all but gone, and most of the bruising has faded to a dull yellow. But the shoulder is shiny.

“What did you put on this?” he asks gruffly.

His hunter looks away quickly. “Uh… anti-coagulant. Didn’t want you to keep feelin’ bad about the whole thing.”

Hanzo huffs, then gives the bite another cursory glance. “You truly were not bothered by it?”

“Naw. There’s a very clear difference between ‘angry Hanzo ready to kill’ and ‘sexy Hanzo makin’ me feel good.’”

Hanzo looks at his hunter dubiously, lips pressed thin. Jesse continues talking, completely unperturbed.

“Besides, shit happens in the throes of passion.” Then with a wink: “it ain’t as bad as that one time I head-butted the other guy an’ almost broke his nose.”

Hanzo does not normally want details on Jesse’s previous affairs, but this is something that he needs to hear. “How…?”

“We uh… we used toys. Plural. An’ it made stuff just a li’l too intense…”

The demon covers his mouth, trying not to laugh. He shuts his eyes so that he doesn’t laugh at his hunter’s face, but he can’t hold it in. So he drops his head onto Jesse’s chest as his shoulders shudder with silent laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse says, amused. “Laugh it up.”

So he does. He cackles loudly. And Jesse laughs too. He brings his hands up, placing them gently on Hanzo’s back.

When their laughter dies down, Hanzo speaks up:

“Are you sure your shoulder is ok?”

“Hanzo!” Jesse whines playfully. “You keep askin’ that, and I’ll have to count it as a question.”

Hanzo chuckles, remembering their game. “Very well. I will take your word for it.”

“Naw, come on! I got saucy one for ya!”

Hanzo pulls away, holding Jesse’s face in his hands. “You have a free one saved up,” he purrs. 

Jesse smiles dumbly. “How’d ya get a tattoo done over yer nipple?”

Hanzo tilts his head quizzically. “The same way you tattoo normal skin?” he tries.

“Sweetheart, ya can’t tattoo it, it’s too bumpy an’ sensitive.”

“For you, maybe,” Hanzo counters haughtily. He then racks his brain, thinking of all of the tattoos he had seen in Japan; _hikae_ pieces only cover the upper part of the pec, not the nipple. And he doesn’t remember seeing _munewari_ full-bodied tattoos on humans.

“Looks like yer thinkin’ real hard, cupcake,” Jesse teases.

“Can you really not tattoo over nipple?” he blurts out.

“You ain’t supposed to,” Jesse says. He then adds, “But I guess demons play by different rules.”

“Hn.”

Jesse’s eyes remain on his chest. He lifts his hand slowly, then places a gentle thumb against the tattooed oni’s mouth. He traces along the white snake’s tail, following it to Hanzo’s shoulder. 

Hanzo closes his eyes, humming. He moves slowly, back into Jesse’s arms, where his hunter continues to trace different shapes across the tattoo. He stops abruptly.

“Come on,” he whispers, “bed time.”

Hanzo complies, climbing into bed and curling up against his hunter, who continues tracing patterns across his arm until he falls asleep. 

 

~~~~~~

 

The next day involves many hours of exhaustive planning and strategizing, and lots of hypothetical discussions about Angela’s healing magic and its potential to restore the Reaper to his former living self. 

“Theory doesn’t always guarantee results,” Fareeha argues.

“I have many years of practise with healing magic,” Angela counters.

“It’s also the best we got,” Morrison adds.

Hanzo just sits and listens and tries to keep up. Jesse remains painfully quiet throughout, and only speaks up at the end:

“Let’s hope this works. I’ve missed havin’ Gabriel around.”

When they finally return home, they are emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Hanzo unbuttons his shirt while Jesse sits heavily on the bed. He has on his face a tired scowl that is a recent addition to his repertoire; it only shows up when he’s had to spend an extended period of time in Jack Morrison’s presence.

“He’s all nice, now,” Jesse growls, tugging his boots off. “Prolly realised how much of an asshole he was to me.”

Hanzo removes his shirt and folds it neatly, placing it in one of their draws. “Bitterness does not sound pleasant coming from you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m bitter as fuck about the whole damn thing.” Jesse tosses his boot into its designated corner emphatically. Its partner stays in his hand. He then looks at Hanzo accusingly. “Why ain’t I allowed to be bitter?”

Hanzo sighs. “Because you are such a wonderful optimist. You always hope to see the good in people. You are loving and kind and gentle. As such, it is rather sad for me to see you so bitter.”

He turns away from the drawer, looking at Jesse. His hunter’s eyes are wide, and his mouth is slightly open. 

“What?” Hanzo asks quickly.

“Nothin’,” Jesse says, dropping his eyes and throwing his other boot gently into the corner. 

“Jesse, you are entitled to be bitter.” Hanzo moves to sit next to him. “It is just sad for me to see.” He pauses, tilting his head playfully. “Has Morrison always sounded like he gargled concrete?”

“Yep. Don’ change the subject.” He sits up straighter, looking at Hanzo intently. “Did you really mean all that?”

“Of course!” Hanzo balks, incredulous. “Why else would I say it?”

“I dunno. I just…” He smiles weakly, not making eye contact. “Just a real sweet thing fer you to say about me.”

“Well,” Hanzo says teasingly, “you are a real sweet person.”

“Stop it,” Jesse laughs. Hanzo leans in close, pressing a gentle kiss onto his hunter’s cheek. Jesse reciprocates by grabbing Hanzo roughly and throwing him onto the bed. Hanzo cries out in surprise, trying to wiggle out of Jesse’s grasp, but he gives up readily when Jesse begins kissing his face. 

“I don’t you about you sweetheart, but I say we snuggle an’ call it an early night.”

Hanzo hums his agreement, holding onto Jesse even tighter.

 

~~~~~~

 

Hanzo wakes unfairly early; Jesse hasn’t yet returned from his morning jog, and the bed is empty. 

He pulls himself out from under the sheets and starts digging around for clothes; he settles on a pair of his old jeans (given that the weather is cooling) and Jesse’s blue flannel shirt. 

He heads to the kitchen and sets the percolator, making sure there’s enough coffee for two mugs – he’s not feeling like tea this morning. Once set, he heads outside for fresh air. There is a considerable amount of cloud cover, which means there is very little warmth, and the crisp air feels cool on his skin.

He hears when Jesse returns; heavy footsteps, light panting, the jingling of keys. He heads inside, serving two mugs of coffee.

“Oh, hey!” Jesse calls out in surprise when he sees Hanzo in the kitchen. “You’re up!”

“Indeed,” he purrs, handing over his hunter’s mug. “For you.”

“Aww, thanks, sweetheart!” 

They sit at their usual seats, pressed up against each other. Jesse stares at his coffee absently.

“So, uh. Pharah called me. Apparently Morrison got fresh intel on where the Reaper’s run off to.”

“Hn.”

“Yep. We’re meetin’ at the Amari place, but not fer a while. Which is good, ’cause I think I sprained somethin’ on my jog.” He props his leg up on a chair and starts rubbing along the underside of his thigh. Hanzo watches intently, sipping his coffee. 

“Hold on,” Jesse says. He gets up and sits on the floor with his legs pressed flat on the ground. “Got this stretch that helps.” He tucks his opposite foot towards his crotch, the sore leg stretched out. Hanzo watches even more intently. 

Jesse leans forward, hands grabbing his ankle. He sighs happily. He stretches slightly further, and with one hand starts to rub along the underside of his thigh, just as he was before. Hanzo can feel his throat becoming dry and his heart speeding up, and when Jesse lets out a gentle moan with a breathy “that’s the stuff,” Hanzo turns away, looking into his coffee.

“You ok, sweetheart?”

“Fine,” he says quickly. 

Jesse purses his lips, giving Hanzo his signature ‘I don’t believe your bullshit’ face.

Hanzo huffs, glancing back at his hunter on the floor before looking back at his coffee. “You cannot expect me to stay calm when you are all stretched out like that and moaning,” he says sulkily.

Jesse clicks his tongue smugly. “Told ya I was pretty flexible.”

Hanzo drops his face into his open palm. “Jesse, if you keep this up, I will need to go outside for some cold air.”

Jesse laughs, low and deep. “All good, sweetheart. I’m finished down here anyway.”

He grunts as he pulls himself off the floor, and then he sits next to Hanzo, where he nudges the demon’s foot playfully. 

Hanzo rolls his eyes with a smile, then grabs Jesse’s hand, threading their fingers together. They finish their coffees in a comfortable silence. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Everyone arrives at the Amari residence at approximately the same time; Jesse barely finishes parking besides Angela’s sports car when a truck even older and more beat up than Clara’s pulls in next to them. The panels are curved and dated from an era long passed, and the tray is bordered by wood. The rear window has a collection of old, faded stickers that Hanzo can tell were once bright and garish. Several of them refer to Indiana, and one of them has a faded rainbow in the background with the words “Y’ALL MEANS ALL” across it. 

“Oh, good _God,_ Morrison,” Jesse groans.

“Are you embarrassed?” Hanzo asks coyly.

“Yeah, embarrassed on _his_ behalf.”

Morrison stiffens slightly when he sees Hanzo, but makes no other indications of his discomfort; his face stays infuriatingly passive. It then occurs to Hanzo that everyone else present had seen him in his natural skin before. And given that Morrison was once an elite hunter, he could probably guess at Hanzo’s power and position based on his appearance. _As long as I don’t bleed on anything, there won’t be any awkward questions._

“Debriefing is happening inside,” Morrison says simply, marching towards the house without sparing them a second glance.

Jesse sighs heavily. “Great. He’s in ‘Commander mode’. I swear, if Ana lets him lead the hunt-”

“Then we will have to follow his orders,” Hanzo says sharply. “Surely your pride is not more important than the mission?”

“No,” Jesse says, sulky and defeated. “No, it ain’t.” 

Hanzo grabs his hunter’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Remember: I got you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

They get inside, and everyone is gathered around the common area. No one sits, and both Ana and Fareeha look powerful and distant – very much like the first night he had met them.

“Ok people,” Morrison says, “this’ll be a simple capture and detainment mission-”

Ana interrupts him, clearing her throat sharply. Morrison ducks his head, taking a step backwards and folding his arms behind his back.

“Sorry, Captain. Force of habit.”

Ana watches him with a hard glare for a few seconds more before stepping forward and addressing them all with her strong voice.

“This will be a capture and detainment mission. No fatal shots, no casualties. We know the Reaper will not harm Jesse, but we are not so sure about the rest of us, so exercise extreme caution when dealing with him.

“We can also not be certain that he will be completely on his own; he is often accompanied by the Widowmaker. Therefore, our initial search of the area will need to include looking out for sniper’s nests and potential vantage points.”

The elder hunter turns to face her daughter. “Fareeha?”

She stands even straighter, her eyes set dead-ahead.

Ana continues: “You will scan the cliffs and caves for any signs of our target and his company. Angela will accompany you.”

Fareeha nods firmly, still not looking at her mother. Angela nods confidently with a small smile.

“Jesse and Jack will lead the charge, and Hanzo will follow behind them, acting as defence.”

She looks to the three of them. Morrison nods firmly, Jesse tilts his head with a quiet ‘yes, ma’am’, and Hanzo barks a short ‘understood’.

“I will scout ahead and set up a nest, and when I give the all-clear, Jesse and Jack will move ahead and advise Hanzo of when he needs to move in behind them.

“Once Angela and Fareeha have cleared the cliffs, Fareeha will be on stand-by, and Angela will join Jack and Jesse when they have located and pinned down the Reaper. Then she will apply the healing magic, and from there we will attempt to capture Gabriel and bring him back with us. If necessary, I will sedate him.”

Ana stands taller, surveying the room. Hanzo feels like she can see right through him with that powerful gaze. She looks over everyone present slowly and carefully. No one moves or speaks.

Ana relaxes her shoulders, looking suddenly tired. “Remember: our top priority is to bring Gabriel back unharmed.”

“We will, Ana,” Jesse says softly. 

They head to their cars and make the half-hour drive to the stretch of Route 66 that leads to the Panorama diner. Again, they park behind Big Earl’s. Jesse and Hanzo are already in their battle gear, so they watch everyone else huddle around their cars and prepare themselves for combat: Ana helps Fareeha with her suit; Morrison covers himself with belts and holsters filled with stakes and bullets, then he puts on a red leather jacket and pulls a large rifle out of his car; Angela puts on a light suit of black and white armour, and equips herself with a small pistol and a staff made of dark wood with metal fastenings on the tip of it. 

Hanzo watches the witch the most closely; he has seen Fareeha’s suit before, and Morrison appears to be equipped with most of what Jesse has, but he’s never seen armour like Angela’s before. It looks to be metal, but it clips and clicks together smoothly, and hugs her body quite snuggly, almost like a second skin. Over the top of her armour, she wears decorative clothing with purple accents; sleeves over her arms, black gloves, and a draping loin cloth that reaches her knees. She wears metal boots with heavy kneecaps – similar to Hanzo’s boots, but much pointier and sharper. When she turns, Hanzo sees spiked wings on her back; smaller and more delicate than Fareeha’s thrusters, but most likely fuelled by magic rather than technology.

When everyone is equipped and ready, they all huddle together. Angela hands them each a small, wooden charm. She is very careful with placing Hanzo’s charm safely on his gloved palm, away from his two bared fingers. Jesse grabs it from him gently and places it in one of the pouches that are attached to his obi. 

“As long as the charm stays on your person,” Angela explains, “you will have a regenerative protective shield. If you start feeling tingly after taking a hit, keep your head down and let your shield recharge.”

With a nod from Ana, Morrison steps forward and addresses everyone.

“Ok, from this point on, call signs only.”

Jesse snorts. “Alright, Commander Buffy.”

“It’s Soldier, smart ass.” Morrison doesn’t even look at Jesse when he addresses him. “Yours still your last name?”

“Yep.”

“Typical.”

Before Jesse can bite back, Fareeha steps in, addressing Hanzo. “Mom just goes by Shrike, Angela is Mercy, and I’m Pharah, obviously.” Her friendly smile turns mischievous. “What do we call you?”

He blinks, surprised. “Hanzo will be fine.”

“Boring.”

“Jesse gets to use his name,” Hanzo responds playfully.

“Jesse is also boring,” she replies.

“Hey!” his hunter cries, arms akimbo. 

Hanzo is tempted to make a quip about Jesse’s bedroom performances and how they’re far from boring, but he thinks better of it; it’d be just the fuel Morrison (no, Soldier) needs to hark up and insist they’re both unfit for the task at hand. 

Pharah offers Hanzo one last smile before she moves to the main stretch of road. She stands tall in her suit, watching the distant cliffs. Shrike moves to stand beside her, hugging her rifle.

“Those cliffs are too far for even a powerful sniper. Stick to this side of the canyon.”

“Understood.”

Shrike presses the side of her helmet, and a glossy black face place covers her features. Three short blue lines form a triangle pattern over her face. “Soldier, McCree; wait until my signal before you move up.”

“Right.” Soldier looks at Jesse. No, McCree. Having to call his hunter by his surname seems so distant and uncomfortable, but he needs to prove to Morrison that he’s capable of working with Jesse professionally.

Pharah and Mercy take flight, checking the top-most caves and tunnels for any enemy activity. When they radio in and report no presence of snipers, Shrike grapples up the cliff side and disappears into the tunnels. Soldier, McCree and Hanzo stay and wait for instructions.

_“Cliffs are clear. You’re good to move ahead.”_

“Roger that.” Soldier looks at both McCree and Hanzo, then grasps his rifle. He tilts his head forward and without waiting for either of them, takes off at a jog. McCree spares Hanzo a quick glance before following Soldier closely. Hanzo follows at a safe distance, bow at the ready and eyes scanning the environment.

They push forward without incident all along the winding expanse of the road until they reach the discarded train carriages. The Panorama diner looks exactly as it did the day he and Fareeha went to retrieve Jesse; all windows and glass intact, with a fine coat of orange dust covering everything.

They stay hidden amongst the wreckage, waiting for Shrike’s go-ahead. Pharah lets everyone know the cliffs above her are clear, and stays hidden in them, ready to fly out with her rocket barrage if needed. Mercy floats down from the tunnels to stand beside Hanzo.

 _“I am in position,”_ Shrike says slowly, _“get ready to move ahead.”_

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” McCree replies. Soldier looks at him with a pronounced frown, but McCree pointedly ignores him, cocking the hammer of his revolver slowly and deliberately. Hanzo sighs internally. _They will put aside their differences for the good of the mission,_ he thinks to himself. _They will put aside their differences-_

_“You’re clear to move ahead.”_

Both Soldier and McCree charge forward. Hanzo side-eyes Mercy, and she returns his exasperated look before they both move ahead, trailing the two hunters at an easy distance. 

Hanzo watches the two of them enter the diner. Both he and Mercy wait outside, away from the windows while the hunters investigate. He knows that Shrike and Pharah are watching their backs, but he scans their surroundings anyway.

Until he hears a shotgun blast from within the diner.

“Cease fire!” he hears Soldier yell.

“Make me,” the Reaper purrs, shooting again. 

Hanzo and Mercy press their backs against the diner’s outer walls, staying away from the windows, but listening closely.

“Stand down, God damnit!”

Another shotgun blast. McCree stays silent, and Hanzo hopes that he’s staying hidden.

 _“Hanzo,”_ Pharah says over the comms, _“we need eyes in the diner. Can you deploy one of your arrows?”_

“Affirmative,” he grunts, reaching into his quiver and extracting one of his sonic arrows. He leans carefully into the diner door, pushing it open quietly. He sees that Soldier has moved up and is taking cover behind one of the booths. Reaper’s back is to Hanzo.

The demon pulls the bow taut, waiting for Reaper to shoot again. 

“I won’t ask you again,” Soldier growls, “put your weapon down-”

Hanzo tunes out the sound of Soldier’s voice, and watches Reaper closely as he raises one of his shotguns. He times it perfectly; the arrow lodging itself into one of the booths is silent underneath yet another blast of the shotgun.

He watches three figures through the wall: McCree still hidden on the other side of the diner; Soldier taking cover; and the Reaper, standing between Soldier and the front doors of the Panorama. 

“You just couldn’t leave me alone, could you Jack?”

 _Crack!_ Another shot into the booth Soldier is hiding behind.

“Just had to keep trailing me like a bad smell.”

_Crack!_

“Didn’t even want to listen to me when I tried to explain myself.”

_Crack!_

“So I don’t see why I should be listening to you now.”

Hanzo’s sonic arrow signal begins to fade; the last he sees through the wall is Reaper standing right in front of Morrison’s hiding spot, both shotguns raised, and McCree standing slowly.

“That’s enough, Gabriel.”

“Jesse?!” he whimpers. Hanzo hears a gruff growl, and the Reaper’s voice becomes rough and threatening again. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I told you, boss,” McCree declares, “I wasn’t gonna leave you behind.”

“Surprised your demon _friend_ isn’t here,” the Reaper snarls, spitting out the word ‘friend’.

“Come on, Gabriel,” McCree says gently. “Enough of this.”

“I warned you, Jesse. I warned you to stop following me, and to just leave me.”

“An’ I warned you just the same; I ain’t givin’ up on you. Or leavin’ you behind.”

“So,” Reaper snaps, “‘leave me alone’ actually means ‘team up with Commander Asshole and come and harass me’?”

“Well, technically-” Soldier starts, but he’s cut off by Reaper.

“Shut up, Jack!”

Hanzo listens to the situation get more and more out of hand… and a realisation comes to him. He comms the public channel, but addresses Ana.

“Shrike, requesting permission to draw the Reaper out of the diner.”

Silence. Then: _“And how do you propose to do that?”_

“He wants me dead. If I let him see me, he’ll come after me.”

 _“And then Mercy will have him in range.”_ Shrike hesitates, and they all hear another shotgun blast, followed by more shouting. _“Very well. Proceed with caution and act quickly.”_

“Understood.” Hanzo looks at Mercy, who offers him a hopeful smile, then he takes a deep breath and peeks around the wall, pushing the diner door open very slightly. 

Reaper notices him immediately. “You!” he bellows. Hanzo stays where he is, and he watches Reaper throw a table in McCree’s general direction, fire off another shot at Soldier, and then he disintegrates into smoke and heads straight for Hanzo. 

Hanzo waits until the last possible second, then he closes the door, stopping Reaper from slipping out in his smoke form. He runs to stand beside Mercy, who already has her staff poised and ready. 

The Reaper kicks the diner door open, shotguns raised threateningly. He starts upon seeing that Hanzo is not alone.

“Now, Mercy!”

The witch points her staff at the Reaper, and a tendril of golden light shoots out. When it hits the Reaper’s chest, it spreads from the point of impact, like lightning, flickering and wild. 

The Reaper is pushed backwards slightly, and when the light fades, he growls, lifting his shotguns again, but his left hand turns to smoke. 

“What… what have you _done?”_ he screeches. He takes a step backwards as his hand solidifies, breaks down and builds up yet again. He drops his other shotgun and roars with ragged breaths as he tumbles over backwards. He tries to phase into smoke, most of his body complying before it quickly solidifies again.

“What have you done?!” he repeats, louder and angrier. He scrambles to his feet, body trying desperately to fade away, but Angela’s magic prevents him from doing so.

He lets out an angry scream, desperate and raspy, his clawed gauntlets scraping the floor as he tries to push himself upright. 

Soldier and McCree exit the diner and they stand beside Reaper. Soldier has his assault rifle aimed at the Reaper, but McCree just watches, his expression a mix of sadness and determination.

 _“I am going to sedate him,”_ Shrike says over the comms. 

“Negative,” Soldier growls, “let him tire himself out.”

“Who are you talking to?” the Reaper demands. “Is that Amari? Of course it’s Amari! She always took your side, didn’t she, Jack?” He manages to prop himself up on one knee, his legs no longer shifting from smoke to solid. Even hunched and breathing heavily, he still makes for a fearful sight. 

“It’s over, Gabe,” Soldier says firmly.

“Don’t you call me that!” the Reaper spits. “‘Gabe’ died in that explosion!”

Soldier shrugs, lowering his rifle slightly. 

“Gabriel, please,” Angela says thinly, “you will still need treatment after the initial bout-”

The Reaper launches himself at Angela, all rage and clumsy footing. He lands on his belly, nowhere near her, but Soldier moves to stand protectively in front of her anyway. 

The Reaper pushes himself off the floor again, but he collapses when an arm phases into smoke suddenly. Everyone cringes at the sound of the mask hitting the ground with a crunch.

His arm reappears under him. He grunts tiredly, but there’s still fight in him; he pushes himself up again, and then brings his legs in under himself. This time, he manages to stand. 

“You’re coming with us,” Soldier declares.

“I am not going anywhere fucking _near_ you, Jack.”

“Don’t got a choice, boss,” McCree drawls. “We’re takin’ care of you. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.”

“Oh,” the Reaper rumbles, tilting his head back in an intimidating fashion, “but there is.”

And behind the Reaper’s left shoulder, a human shape begins flickering into being. It’s as if a solid person is made of liquid glass; they flicker and waver until they finally appear in a flash of purple light.

A woman stands behind the Reaper. She looks young, probably thirty, and is wearing a gaudy purple outfit with a large jacket. Her head is shaved on one side, dark brown stubble visible, and what remains of her thick, brown hair is swept over the right side of her face, flicking up dramatically at the ends, purple and fading into white. While her clothes aren’t particularly intimidating, her face is downright wicked; the cockiness of youth with a smug smirk, and a look in her eyes that says ‘I own you’.

“It’s nice to finally meet the famous Jack Morrison,” she purrs, her accent giving her speech a lilting, almost sing-song quality. “Gabe’s told me all about you.”

At the mention of his name, the Reaper turns his head with a low growl.

“Oh, come on!” she teases. “We’re all on first-name basis here!” She looks at McCree. “Jesse.” His hunter’s face sours considerably. She pokes out from behind Reaper to wave in Shrike’s general direction. “Ana.” She looks to Mercy. “Angela.”

Her eyes find Hanzo’s. “And then there’s you. All I can find on you is that you were killing people in Hanamura. And Jesse here went to stop you. And you just disappeared from Japan. Just like that!” She places a hand on her hip, wagging a gloved and manicured finger playfully at him. “But then I found you again. It’s a shame all of those forums only mention a demon companion with no name.”

Jesse takes a threatening step forward. “That’s why you set a demon trap when we were protectin’ those wolves.”

“Got it in one, _niño,”_ the Reaper says. 

McCree’s eyes flick back to the young woman. “An’ who the hell’re you?”

“Tch! So rude!”

“Hey, ain’t we all on first name basis here?”

“I don’t have a name anymore. Go by Sombra.”

“Cute,” McCree says stiffly. 

Sombra shrugs. “Well, it’s been fun, but me and Gabe got things to do, people to kill. You know how it is.”

_“She keeps hiding behind Gabriel! I can’t get a clear shot!”_

“You think you can outrun us?” Soldier growls.

Sombra laughs darkly, then fixes Soldier with a condescending smile while looping an arm through the Reaper’s. “Who said anything about running?”

And with that, the two fade into nothing. The hunters rush forward, trying to catch them before they’re completely gone, but it’s too late. Soldier instantly comms the Amaris:

“Lost contact with both hostiles. Any sign of them where you are?”

 _“I can see nothing from my vantage point,”_ Shrike says slowly, _“but Pharah is checking the cliffs and caves.”_

Soldier exhales, gripping his rifle firmly and setting his face into a passive frown.

Finally, Pharah comms them. _“No sign of either of them, but I did find something else. You should see this for yourselves.”_

Hanzo looks to McCree, feeling very uneasy. His hunter just nods at him and walks towards the hollowed out train carriage that will lead them up into the cliffs. Soldier and Mercy follow silently.

They end up in a shallow cave boarded with wooden panels. Shrike and Pharah stand there, and when Pharah meets Jesse’s eyes, she points to the floor, where a small device lies.

“A teleporter?” yells Soldier. “Are you serious?!”

McCree just stares at it. “That’s stolen tech,” he whispers. 

Shrike nods. “I noticed too; it’s like Lena’s. Like the one Winston made for her.”

“It ain’t just a teleporter, then; it’s a translocator. How did that asshole even get her evil li’l hands on this?”

Pharah shrugs. “If she’s part of the terrorist cell Reaper’s aligned with, then she would have the resources to steal something like this.”

Jesse looks at the translocator with a pronounced frown. “Is there any way to send this back to the big guy? See where it went missing from?”

“It looks quite stripped back,” Ana says. “It could have been one of his prototypes, or one of his rejects.”

“Or,” Morrison interjects, “this isn’t one of his, but it’s modelled after it. I’d imagined their highly organised terrorist group has ample resources to make a lot of these for her.”

“So,” Jesse drawls slowly, “we can’t use this damn thing to chase them down, and we don’t know where they’ve run off to. Now what?”

Morrison stands straighter. “Now, we keep our eyes peeled and our ears to the ground. Follow them whenever we can, and try and bring Gabriel back unharmed.”

“Great,” Jesse grumbles. “Just, great.” He glares at the translocator before promptly walking over to it and stomping it. 

There is a minute of uncomfortable silence, aside from the crunching of the translocator under Jesse’s boot. Hanzo looks to Fareeha for support. He can only see the lower half of her face, but the awkward smile and half shrug she offers him makes him feel a bit better about being surrounded by four disappointed hunters, one of whom was grinding a piece of metal into the dirt. 

When Jesse’s finished with the translocator, he exhales heavily, then turns to the Amaris. “I’ll get Lúcio to follow them.”

“Who?” Morrison growls.

Jesse turns to face Morrison with obvious reluctance. “Lúcio. He’s my main man with all of the computer stuff. Well, aside from Winston.”

“And you have faith in his abilities?”

“We all do,” Fareeha says quickly. 

Morrison sighs heavily. “Fine. But I’d like to be in touch with him while he chases this up.”

Jesse adopts a particularly nasty scowl. He leans towards Morrison threateningly, eyes fixed firmly on the older hunter. “Fine, but know this: Lúcio does this as a favour to us. He refuses to accept payment for his services, and it takes time away from his music career. So if I hear anythin’ about you barking orders, or treating him like he’s one of your subordinates, so help me _God,_ Morrison, I’ll-”

“I got it, McCree.”

Jesse eases back but he still stares at Morrison. Thankfully, Ana steps in:

“I think we have had a long and tiring day. I think it would be best if we all went home and reconvened when we have more information on where the Reaper has run off to.”

Morrison leaves first, then Angela. The Amaris stay back for a while and reassure Jesse that they’ll get to the bottom of everything. Fareeha gives Hanzo a quick hug before they leave. 

Before the hunter and demon enter the truck, Jesse stops them. “I don’t like it,” he says quietly.

Hanzo doesn’t respond with words; he gives him an encouraging look.

“I don’t like that Morrison gets to just wedge himself in here, and demand to be in contact with Lúcio an’ act like he’s runnin’ the show, and… I just… I don’t like it.”

“Lúcio is a grown man who is friendly and caring and understanding. I doubt even Morrison could get under his skin.”

Jesse sighs heavily. “You’re right. But I reserve my right to not like it.”

“That is fair,” Hanzo murmurs. He walks around the car and steps into Jesse’s space, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Let us just get home.”

His hunter closes his eyes slowly. “That sounds like a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hikae pieces](https://www.google.com.au/search?source=hp&ei=fGxoWt-1L8Ow0AS5hJ3IBQ&q=hikae+tattoo&oq=hikae+tattoo&gs_l=psy-ab.3...1021.3250.0.3466.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0..0.0....0...1.1.64.psy-ab..0.0.0....0.Hk3AYqA7V-w) cover the upper part of the pec (like Hanzo's human tattoo). [Munewari](https://www.google.com.au/search?ei=gGxoWoSsLsXL0ASi070Q&q=munewari+tattoo&oq=munewari+tattoo&gs_l=psy-ab.3...24282.25804.0.26062.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0..0.0....0...1.1.64.psy-ab..0.0.0....0.-aYXCuEgGgg) cover the whole torso (except the collarbone and sternum).
> 
> Also! I went with Mercy's Imp skin, because it seemed more battle-ready than her Witch skin :B


	12. The Approaching Curve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh! How did I let more than a month go passed without an update?? And how is it March already?!??
> 
> Aaaanyway, this chapter is a good 6k words long, and there's more action, so please enjoy! **CW: someone kinda gets their arm broken, and it's a li'l graphic...**

There is no sitting around waiting to hear from Morrison this time; Jesse and Hanzo chase down leads and piece together all they know of Reaper, and the terrorist cell he’s aligned with.

“Accordin’ to my sources, the group’s called ‘Talon.’ Mostly recruit ex-military non-humans, and their mission statement is a li’l unclear… looks like they mostly target people that deal with hidin’ or organisin’ non-humans.”

Jesse sits straighter in his desk chair, pausing thoughtfully. Hanzo shifts his chair closer, but given that it’s one of the dining chairs that has been brought in from the kitchen and it doesn’t have wheels, it makes an obnoxiously loud noise as it scooches forward. He waits for his hunter to speak up.

He clears his throat first. “Gabriel said that he didn’t realise Guillermo wasn’t trafficking wolves. That he only agreed to that contract because it looked like trafficking.”

Hanzo pauses, his brain working hard. “So… he wants to ensure his targets are corrupt, or harming people in some way before he agrees to kill them?”

“Seems that way.” 

“And he is not a member of this terrorist group? He is only a hired gun for them?”

“Yep.”

Hanzo is quiet for a time. He watches Jesse’s face, but it reveals nothing: it’s locked in an impassive scowl, the corners of his wide mouth pulled down. He puts a hand over Jesse’s gently. “You were right,” he says quietly.

Jesse’s face breaks out of his scowl, his eyes large and fixed on Hanzo’s. “Huh?”

“You were right; the Gabriel you knew is still in there. And you might be able to save him.”

Jesse doesn’t respond right away. His head turns back to the screen, then his eyes drop to their hands. Finally he returns his eyes to Hanzo’s face.

“You really think so?”

“I do.”

Jesse smiles widely. Happy, but still tired. He calls Lúcio to update him on what they found. And he also makes sure to let him know that he can at any point tell Morrison to “fuck right off.”

 _“Really man,”_ Lúcio laughs, _“I don’t mind.”_

“Well, I do. Don’t want you having to deal with him any longer than absolutely necessary.”

 _“Don’t even worry about me! I’m fine! And Morrison isn’t even_ that _bad!”_

Jesse pauses for a while, then sighs tiredly. “Be that as it may, we’ve already asked too much of you on this case.”

_“Pshh! Nah! I know this case is really important to everyone involved. And besides, I’m on hiatus – I like to have at least six months off before I get back in the studio.”_

“Ok. Just let us know if we can do anythin’ else. Don’t want you overworkin’ yourself again.”

_“I won’t - I promise!”_

Jesse looks at Hanzo sceptically, his lips pursed. He says his goodbyes and ends the call.

“Well, you’re my witness, Hanzo. He promised not to overwork himself.”

Hanzo just laughs, shaking his head. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Hanzo can’t fall asleep at all; he lies in Jesse’s arms and contemplates the last month or so of his life. He thinks of his hunter acting dejected and lost and very unlike himself upon their return from their last job. He remembers Jesse finally getting better and smiling fully again, at least until the Reaper showed up and made everything more complicated. 

And then there was Ana’s revelation, and that coupled with Angela’s admission that she was behind the whole ‘Gabriel Reyes-turned-Reaper’ disaster was enough to set Jesse right back into his slump. 

And to top it all off, Morrison came back from the dead, and he seems to be as obstinate and gruff as Jesse remembers him. All in all, Jesse seems to be holding up well despite the constant onslaught of drama and stress. 

He seems to have cheered up considerably with the stronger possibility that Gabriel might still be intact underneath his Reaper persona. 

Jesse interrupts Hanzo’s thoughts by rolling to his side and muttering incoherently. Hanzo decides to wrap himself around his hunter, carefully pressing his chest against Jesse’s back and gently draping an arm over his waist, touching as much of him as possible, but careful not to wake him.

His thoughts slow down, relaxed by Jesse’s gentle snores. _It’ll all be ok._

Before he realises what’s happening, he falls into a peaceful sleep.

 

~~~~~~

 

Hanzo wakes slowly. He opens his eyes, and finds Jesse’s face in his. 

“I ever tell you how cute you are when yer asleep?” he whispers with a soft smile.

Hanzo just yawns languidly in response. He checks their curtains; still closed, but the bright sunlight would suggest that it is later in the morning. He also notices that Jesse is neither dressed, nor showered.

“Did you not go for your jog this morning?”

“Naw. You were holdin’ me pretty tight an’ I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

Before Hanzo can reply, Jesse’s phone buzzes. He rolls his eyes and tucks himself into Hanzo’s neck.

“Will you not check that?”

“It’s probably Clara harassin’ me again. She’s mad that I don’t wanna do my annual Halloween Terror Event this year.”

Hanzo pulls Jesse away so he can look closely at his face. “You. Hold an annual Halloween event? You?”

Jesse smiles, bemused. “Why wouldn’t I? Halloween’s an important American tradition.”

It doesn’t sit well with Hanzo; monster hunters who dress as caricatures of non-humans for fun…

“Just so you know,” Jesse says to Hanzo’s concerned expression, “we don’t dress up as non-humans. It’d be kinda insensitive if we did, given our line of work, and that most of our friends aren’t human.” He shuffles so that he can still look at Hanzo’s face, but sit more snuggly in his arms. “Besides, it’s more fun coming up with creative alternatives. Like one year when Clara was shifted, me an’ Ma dyed her fur black and made her look like a German Shepherd.” Jesse starts chuckling. “We couldn’t wash it all out, and when she shifted back, one of her eyebrows stayed black.”

Jesse’s phone buzzes again. He buries himself in Hanzo’s chest, groaning loudly. Hanzo reaches passed him and grabs the phone. He checks the screen: two messages from Lúcio.

“It looks like we are expected for a joint video call in half an hour.” Then more smugly: “It is requested that we get dressed for Morrison’s sake.”

Jesse growls into his chest. “Just fer that,” comes his muffled voice, “I’m stayin’ naked!”

Hanzo dresses in jeans and a nice shirt, and somehow manages to coax Jesse into underpants and a shirt, but nothing else. 

They set up two separate screens in the office. When Hanzo asks why Lúcio and Morrison need to be on separate screens, Jesse explains that Lúcio has a habit of pulling up graphics and articles and getting them to pop up all over the screen. 

“It’ll be easier for me to read that stuff on a full screen.”

Hanzo says nothing of his thoughts that Jesse might need reading glasses soon. When they’ve settled and the video call finally starts, Jesse decides that he needs to get up to make coffee. Lúcio at least tries to keep his face impassive, looking as far away from Morrison as he can. The old hunter, however, makes no effort to hide his exasperation. 

Upon Jesse’s return, Morrison decides to get things rolling right away.

_“I found where Reaper’s hiding.”_

_“Ahem!”_ Lúcio tuts, clearing his throat emphatically.

_“Well, Lúcio pinned ’em down. Where’d you find this kid? He’s amazing.”_

“He found me,” Jesse says fondly. Lúcio smiles brightly.

 _“Anyway,”_ Morrison says quickly, squaring his shoulders, _“it looks like he and his new terrorist accomplice have run south. Little beach town in Mexico by the name of Dorado.”_

“I know that little town,” Jesse drawls. “Spent a good deal of time there.” He looks closely at Morrison. “When do we leave?”

Morrison visibly hesitates, his lips pressing themselves together firmly. _“… I uh. I can’t follow you down.”_

Both Jesse and Hanzo inch closer to the screen with Morrison on it. Hanzo doesn’t like this one bit.

_“I cleared out a gang there a little while ago. I’m kind of a public enemy.”_

“Uh huh.” Jesse sounds thoroughly unimpressed.

 _“I think that was the Reaper’s plan,”_ Lúcio interjects. _“Cut Jack out of the equation. Fewer hunters to deal with.”_

“What about the Amaris?” Hanzo asks.

 _“Hired for another job,”_ Morrison says shortly. _“Alaska.”_

“Uh huh,” is all Jesse offers, sounding even more unimpressed.

_“And since you didn’t hire them for this job in any official capacity, they have to take the Alaska contract as a priority.”_

“Uh huh.”

_“And Angela doesn’t know how much time she can get away from the clinic, so we’re not sure if she can tag along yet.”_

“Uh huh.”

Hanzo watches Lúcio grow more and more uncomfortable the surlier Jesse gets. It occurs to him that the young man wouldn’t have seen Jesse acting this cold and distant; Lúcio looks as uneasy as Hanzo feels.

He returns to the conversation when he hears Morrison discuss the possibility of Jesse going after the Reaper on his own to make sure everyone else stays safe.

“And what of me?” Hanzo asks, ready to pounce at the slightest suggestion that he stay put.

Jesse speaks up first: “Honey, the last two times you an’ Reaper faced off, he tried to kill you.” Before Hanzo can protest, Jesse raises a hand to silence him. “Havin’ said that, it is your choice to tag along or stay behind. And I know there won’t be any convincin’ you to let me go on my own. So you’ll need to get packin’.” 

Hanzo smiles smugly. Until Morrison cuts in with an impatient groan.

_“Very cute boys, but you’ll need to wait for Angie to be free to accompany you. Can’t go in without a way to capture Reaper safely.”_

At this point, Hanzo wonders to himself if there is anything Morrison could do to get Hanzo to actually like him. It’s as if every time he speaks, he makes himself less and less agreeable. 

Jesse huffs and folds his arms. “Might not need to wait for Angie when we can take someone else who knows her work.” He faces Lúcio pointedly. The young man looks taken aback, and he points at himself hesitantly.

_“Me?”_

“Not only are you a great medic, but you’ve worked under Angie before. That, and we need a hacker that can match Sombra. And we need you workin’ as we go; I can’t call you up at ass-o’clock in the mornin’ an’ ask you to get to work.”

Lúcio looks off to the side, tapping his palm gently on his desk. Suddenly he looks up again, meeting Jesse’s eyes. _“On one condition; you buy me street food from the best stalls you know.”_

Jesse guffaws loudly. “Deal.”

 _“You are_ not _taking a civilian into hostile territory with you…”_ Morrison growls.

Lúcio opens his mouth to speak, but Jesse beats him to it:

“Did you, or did you not hear me say that he’s a trained medic? And that he’s been mentored by Angie? Not to mention that he’s trained in firearms and is a damn good shot.”

 _“Well,”_ Lúcio says rather quietly, _“I’m not_ technically _trained in firearms. Just a sound-based prototype that stuns people.”_

“There you go, Morrison. We can incapacitate him and hold him ‘til Angie shows up.”

Morrison hunches forward even mores, arms folded and looking away from the camera. Seeming to come to a decision, he sits back in his chair roughly. _“Ok. I got no objections. You kids do what you need.”_

Hanzo supresses the strong urge to curl his upper lip in distaste: he hates any allusion to his age, but when he’s called a kid by someone so much younger than him, it is especially difficult to stay civil.

They end their video call and head back to the bedroom to start packing. Hanzo watches in horror as Jesse throws his clothes into his suitcase haphazardly.

“What? We’re only goin’ 3 hours away! Not like last time when we were on the other side of the God-damn planet and I needed to be tidy so I could pack everythin’.” And to emphasise his point, he throws in another pair of jeans, which land with both legs dangling out of the suitcase. Hanzo just shakes his head and continues neatly folding his clothes.

They wait to hear back from Lúcio, who insisted on finding flights and accommodation for four, since Angela had assured him that she could get time off from the medical clinic she works at.

Jesse passes the time outside, smoking and reading up on Talon from the intel sent to him. Hanzo goes back to the cowboy book; it is exponentially more interesting now that the protagonists are heading to the next town over. It’s as if they run into more trouble as soon as they solve any predicament. _Almost like us,_ Hanzo thinks. _As soon as one thing is resolved, something more troublesome comes up._

He is saved from comparing his life to a piece of fiction in any more detail by the sound of Clara’s truck pulling up in front of their house.

“That’s our ride,” Jesse announces, climbing in through the back door. 

“Our ride?” Hanzo sits up on the couch and meets his hunter’s eyes. 

“Lúcio managed to find us some last-minute flights, but we gotta skedaddle.” 

“So why is Clara driving us?” Hanzo asks, confused.

“I told her we were flyin’ out, an’ she said it’d be silly to get Lúcio to keep his car at the airport, so he’s parked at Ma’s.”

“She said ‘it’d be silly’? Were those her exact words?” Hanzo teases.

“Naw,” Jesse laughs, “it was more like ‘Jess, don’t be fuckin’ obtuse’.”

They’re still chuckling under their breath when they’re outside and dragging their luggage to Clara’s truck. 

Clara nods stiffly at them, and there seems to be something uncomfortable remaining unsaid between the two siblings. Hanzo doesn’t think it’s about the Halloween party; neither of them are that petty. 

Clara clears her throat. “Ma says since yer goin’ to _México,_ y’all might as well buy us some _papel picado_ an’ some fresh incense.” 

Jesse becomes very still. “It’s around that time of year,” he says quietly, and not at all with his usual energy. “Should be easy to find.”

Hanzo can’t help but feel that because there was some hope of Gabriel being saveable, that there now needs to be something else that needs to happen to bring Jesse down. _When one problem looks to be solved, another more complex problem must come up._

The airport buzz is so mundane and routine, it hardly seems to occur; check in, customs, the 3 hour flight, then customs, duty-free shops, baggage claim, and an overpriced taxi ride to their hotel. 

Lúcio has booked them in for two weeks in a three bedroom villa on the second floor of the building. It has a large open floor plan, with each bedroom hidden behind a door on the edge of the living area. 

He gets all of his equipment set up swiftly and easily while Hanzo and Jesse unpack, making sure their weapons and armour can be readily accessed. Hanzo sits on the large plush couch and counts his arrows. Jesse stands at the kitchen table and sorts out the contents of his pockets and pouches. 

Lúcio comments on the odd sight they must make. He then grabs a large chunky camera and takes a photo of all of them. Hanzo watches in confusion as the camera spits out a large square sheet. Lúcio fans himself with it and answers his unasked question:

“Polaroid. Nothin’ digital about it.” Then smugly, “Can’t hack paper.” He checks the photo, then with a smile, walks it over to Hanzo. 

He takes it in: it’s rather grainy and has an odd quality about it, but the three of them are very clearly in the picture: Lúcio up the front with his standard large and happy smile; Hanzo in the middle with his arrows and looking terribly confused; and Jesse in the background looking very professional with all his equipment until you see the playful expression on his face. Hanzo can’t help but smile. And Jesse guffaws when he sees it, and insists they stick it on the fridge. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Angela meets them up the next day, looking frazzled and tired. The first thing she unpacks is her wooden staff. The next thing she does is unpack her bed clothes, put them on, and firmly request that she is not woken up unless there’s a development in the case. 

It doesn’t take long for Lúcio to find out exactly where Sombra and Reaper will be, and exactly what time they will be there.

“I don’t like it,” Lúcio says simply. “This information is too easily accessible. It’s like they wanted us to find them quickly and easily.”

“So it’s a set-up.” Jesse rubs his chin with his metal hand. “Ok, we got two options, then. _Opción uno:_ let this chance slip away and see if we can track them at a later stage when they’re not expecting us. Or _opción dos:_ prepare ourselves to spring this trap. Might even get the upper hand.”

“I vote for _opción dos,”_ Lúcio mutters quickly. Hanzo agrees too:

“We did not follow them down here just to sit idle.”

“Well, since it’s getting late, I think we should wait until tomorrow.” Lúcio sits up, looking at Jesse with eager hope. “Food stalls?”

Jesse can’t help but smile fondly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jesse goes to wake Angela and let her know that they’ll be out, and to Hanzo’s surprise, she chooses to join them on their night out. 

The marketplace is a short walk from the hotel, and the four of them stroll leisurely, enjoying the scenery and the fresh ocean air. They walk between the colourful buildings, down the paved alleyways, which seem quite wide to Hanzo, given that it’s a tiny town with lots of houses very close together.

They reach the marketplace, and in the middle of it all is a tall stone monument with a plaque on it. It has fairy lights dangling off it, and they sweep across the entire marketplace. There are two men in elaborate black suits embroidered with gold playing guitars and singing. Lots of colourful stalls, people milling about as if they have all of the time in the world, speaking with a happy, almost musical cadence. After a while of listening to it, Hanzo can appreciate why the Amaris say that Jesse needs to keep in practice with his Spanish.

The further into the market they head, the closer they get to the food stalls, or the _comedor_ area, as Jesse calls it. Over the smells and sounds of oils and freshly fried foods, Hanzo smells breads and baked goods. Lúcio must pick up on it too, because a vendor with an array of large circular buns catches his eye. 

“Oh hey! It’s that dead bread!” Lúcio caws excitedly. “I love this stuff!” He then looks to Jesse eagerly, almost as if asking for permission.

“Go for it,” he says with a weak smile, “people here eat this stuff all throughout October; no need to wait until _Día de los Muertos.”_

Lúcio pulls a confused Angela along with him to the stall, chattering excitedly about the bread. Hanzo takes the opportunity to get some answers. Jesse is already onto him:

 _“Día de los Muertos._ Day of the Dead. We celebrate our lost loved ones on November 2nd. Build ‘em an altar at their grave site an’ everything.”

Hanzo thinks he knows where this is going. But he asks anyway: “Who do you build an altar for?”

“My Pa… an’ Gabriel.”

Hanzo has a lot of questions about Jesse’s father, and why he’s almost never mentioned, but he sticks to Gabriel. “And that is why you do not feel up to your Halloween event; having to think about whether you will build Gabriel an altar is quite a demanding question, given his… current state.”

Jesse deflates. He looks a good foot shorter when he’s tired and defeated.

“Yeah,” is all he says.

Hanzo takes in a deep breath. “I am guessing you do not wish to talk about it at this time?”

Jesse shakes his head weakly. Hanzo nods decisively; he has a distraction lined up:

“What is it that Clara requested?”

 _“Papel picado._ But I don’t really feel up to bartering right now.”

“That is fine. Just teach me how to ask for it.”

Jesse looks up, standing a little straighter. “Huh?”

Hanzo takes hold of Jesse’s hands, smiling gently. “Let us go to the stall we need, and I can ask for… the _papel picando.”_

Jesse lights up. Then starts laughing. 

Hanzo chuckles too. “Yes, I apologise for my pronunciation.”

“No, you said ‘stingin’ paper’, not ‘chopped paper’.”

 _“Papel picante?”_ Hanzo tries.

Jesse guffaws. “Now the paper’s spicy?”

“You need to teach me!” Hanzo laughs, giving Jesse’s side a playful poke. “Don’t just laugh when I get it wrong!”

“I’m sorry,” Jesse says, still giggling and sounding anything but sorry, “you’re just too funny.” He slings an arm loosely around Hanzo’s shoulders, his boisterous spirit back. “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to get what you want without strippin’ naked an’ battin’ yer eyelashes.”

 

~~~~~~

 

The next day, Hanzo and Jesse scout out the location before they call in Angela and Lúcio. Jesse scouts from the street level while Hanzo scans the rooftops. He walks carefully along the ledges in his battle gear, keeping an eye on both his surrounds and on Jesse below him. Watching his hunter move around with ease amongst the locals is eye-opening; he can see how Jesse worked undercover. Very different to when they had to sit and wait like on the wolves’ property.

_“If they know anythin’, and I suspect they do, they’re not sharin’.”_

Hanzo figured: he’d seen enough of Sombra’s stylised purple pixel skulls around to know that she’s something of an antihero in Dorado. Whatever advantages they thought they might have springing this set-up, it’s nothing compared to the home-ground advantage Sombra has. 

“Perhaps you should try… what was it? ‘Stripping down and batting your eyelashes’?”

_“Very funny. See anythin’ cool all the way up there?”_

“Nothing. No sniper’s nests, and no evidence that anyone professional was up here. Just a lot of empty beer bottles. And there was an old guitar on top of that pink building.”

_“Y’mean the salmon one?”_

“My apologies,” Hanzo sneers playfully, “how embarrassing of me. Not getting the shade of pink correct.”

 _“You better be embarrassed,”_ Jesse laughs. Hanzo catches sight of him leaning against the wall next to a fruit vendor. He almost looks peaceful. 

_“Reckon we should call in the medics now?”_

Hanzo sighs before pressing his communicator to respond. “Yes. Let us finish this as soon as possible.”

_“Couldn’t agree more. Go find us a meet-up spot, an’ I’ll give Angie a call.”_

“Understood.” The demon wastes no time; the area they’re heading to is secluded and quite far removed from the market and the residential areas, so he looks for a covered-up area that is far away from the prying eyes of any passers-by. He finds a very suitable spot; an abandoned and dilapidated shed that still has enough roof and walls to cover them while they get into their armour.

Once everyone arrives, all of them but Hanzo equip themselves: McCree covers himself in his leather armour and straps on his various pockets and pouches; Mercy clips on her snug metal armour and pointy metal boots; and Lúcio puts on what appears to be bulky blue leg armour. 

“My Crossfade suit,” he says excitedly to Hanzo’s curious gaze. “Acts like an amplifier so I can use my music for healing and protection.”

Hanzo’s brain short-circuits. “What?”

“Yeah, I discovered frequencies and melodies that boost mood and speed.” He looks away shyly. “It’s kinda human-specific. Not the protection stuff, though; sonic fields still absorb damage, no matter what you are.”

“It is remarkable,” Hanzo says truthfully. Healing through music, staggering with sounds, and even offering protection with sonic fields. Almost like Mercy’s charms, but done with technology rather than magic. Like what Satya is studying…

Jesse clears his throat. “Let’s get a move-on, then.”

Hanzo climbs back up to the rooftops, both as a scout and protector. Mercy joins him. They move through slowly towards the target area, McCree and Lúcio taking the lead, and Mercy and Hanzo hanging back on the rooftops. 

They arrive at the warehouse where Reaper and Sombra are meant to be. McCree and Lúcio circle around slowly and carefully, checking every corner and blind spot, but they find nothing. 

_“Might need yer arrows to see inside,”_ McCree says.

Hanzo launches a sonic arrow into an opening in the building. Nothing comes up. He and Mercy cross over to its rooftop while McCree and Lúcio check inside of it. 

This rooftop is a lot more cluttered and difficult to navigate: there are a lot of old and busted generators stacked closely together; old dead wires are scattered across the floor, making it uncomfortable to walk across; and there is a large amount of rubbish like old newspapers and empty bottles scattered around. Hanzo also spots what look to be a white sphere the size of a large rockmelon. It sits on little white feet, and looks entirely too new and shiny to be part of the debris on this rooftop. Hanzo points it out to Mercy.

“That almost looks like… something Vishkar would make,” she says quietly. She comms the ground team: “We’ve spotted something unusual.”

 _“Talk to me,”_ McCree replies.

Before Mercy can describe the strange object, Sombra appears in front of the warehouse, as if from nowhere, uncovering herself from her cloaking tech and shooting at their ground team with a short automatic gun. Hanzo aims at her gaudy jacket, hoping to distract her without causing serious injury, but Mercy pulls him backwards just as laser beams shoot at them from their side. The orbs; they’re laser turrets, and they emit a hot, purple beam.

“We’re pinned down,” Mercy says over the comms. “Sombra has deployed some kind of laser turret.”

 _“Laser turrets?”_ McCree balks.

“They are like white orbs on little feet,” Hanzo says.

 _“Sounds like Vishkar tech,”_ Lúcio replies breathily. 

_“Is there anythin’ this li’l thief hasn’t got her damn hands on?!”_ McCree snaps.

Hanzo looks passed the lasers and spots Sombra still firing at McCree and Lúcio with her gun. He can pin her cloak to a pile of old wooden pallets that sit behind her. 

“I am going to pin that awful jacket of hers!” he declares over the public channel. He doesn’t wait for a response; he aims and takes the shot, and lands it perfectly; Sombra is yanked backwards.

Lúcio takes that opportunity to blast Sombra’s gun out of her hand with his speaker gun. Her weapon flies out of her hand, and she is shoved backwards onto the wooden pallets. 

Before any of them can react, Sombra is covered in black smoke, and the Reaper appears in front of her, shielding her from McCree and Lúcio with his solid frame.

“Gabriel!” Hanzo hears his hunter from the ground. Both he and Mercy stand carefully behind the laser beams.

“Be careful, Jesse,” Mercy whispers, echoing the demon’s exact thoughts.

Reaper just stands in front of Sombra with his arms folded. The only part of him that moves are the ends of his cloak that dance in an unnatural breeze. He can’t see Sombra at all.

“C’mon Gabriel,” McCree says gently.

Reaper tilts his head coyly, then slowly reaches into his jacket. Hanzo already has an arrow nocked with his bowstring pulled tight. But Reaper pulls no weapons out of his cloak; his armoured hands come out empty, but in the shape of guns. Pointed right at their ground team.

Then Reaper disappears into black smoke and Sombra is back up and firing. And this time, she activates more turrets that keep Lúcio and McCree pinned. Hanzo can’t shoot them down from here, but he can shoot the turrets that keep him and Mercy stuck on their rooftop; he aims for a plastered wall on the building across from them, takes aim at a particular angle, then fires. His arrow rebounds off the wall and knocks the turret to the ground, where it smashes. Hanzo shoots the other turret, and he moves to incapacitate Sombra, until he sees the Reaper slinking away.

He knows this is a set-up. He knows that Reaper could have removed himself from this situation without being spotted. But he chooses to chase after Reaper anyway. Mercy calls after him, but he keeps going. He think he hears her follow.

He chases black smoke down tight alleyways and around sharp corners. He can hear Mercy fall further and further behind him, her staff too bulky to navigate through such narrow passages. When he makes a quick turn around a particularly harsh corner, the Reaper is expecting him.

He moves too fast for Hanzo to avoid; he slams the demon against the wall with one arm, clawed hand wrapped tightly around his throat.

Hanzo breathes in raggedly, winded, and trying to inhale passed his constricted throat.

Reaper growls lowly. “You’ve gotten away twice now. Not going to let you escape again.” And with that, his hand clenches tighter. 

Hanzo grits his teeth, his claws having no impact on Reaper’s armoured hand. He looks at the man’s arm; his elbow is locked in place. _Stupid mistake._ Hanzo punches the Reaper’s elbow forcefully, snapping the arm.

The Reaper howls in pain, dropping the demon. Hanzo only takes a second to recover before he’s grabbing his bow and reaching for an arrow. 

As soon as he’s upright, the Reaper tackles him to the ground. He hears the arrows from his quiver clatter across the concrete. Hanzo swipes his claws across the Reaper’s neck, tearing the cloth beneath the armour plating. Before he can swipe again, the Reaper has dissipated. 

Hanzo springs to his feet, hunched, his eyes roaming around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees black smoke slinking lazily towards him. He feigns ignorance, pretending that he hasn’t spotted him, and when Reaper solidifies and pounces, Hanzo is ready for him.

They wrestle again, but this time, Hanzo gets the upper hand; he pins Reaper on the ground, bow wedged beneath his chin, pressed firmly against his throat.

“What do you want?” Hanzo snaps, teeth bared. “What do you want from Jesse?”

“Why do you care?” The Reaper coughs, then strains an inhale. “He’s nothing but meat to you.”

Hanzo’s eyes widen in shock. The Reaper thinks that Jesse is bound to a demon! That he made a deal he can’t get out of! It now makes perfect sense why the Reaper had targeted him so fiercely.

“That’s right,” the Reaper rasps, “got you all figured out, asshole.” He squirms, clenching and unclenching his right hand. “I won’t have some low-life demon leeching off of him. I don’t care if it kills me, I _will_ free him of you.” And too fast again, the Reaper holds a shotgun to Hanzo’s belly. The demon leaps off him quickly, but he still feels cold and tingly where the stray shotgun pellets bounce off him. 

The Reaper roars angrily as he springs upright with lightning speed. “Of _course_ Mercy gave you protective charms!”

Hanzo watches Reaper's mask drop to the pouches that are attached to his _obi._ He smirks, hunching in a ready fashion, and holding his bow like a melee weapon. “Why don’t you try and remove it, then?”

Reaper growls, quick and low, and he launches himself at Hanzo. They trade blows, both of them landing punches and scratches. Reaper is fast, even for Hanzo’s inhuman reflexes, and he doesn’t seem to tire at all. Every blow and scratch Reaper lands chips away at his charm’s shield, but it feels like every blow Hanzo lands on him does nothing. He even manages to grab Reaper and throw him forcefully against a brick wall, but the wraith drops, dissipates into smoke, and gets back up as if nothing happened. 

He charges at Hanzo, and he manages to claw through the pouch holding the charm, and it slips out and onto the floor. Reaper spots it immediately and quickly stomps it. Hanzo takes those two seconds to draw an arrow and notch it. He points it right at the Reaper’s chest. 

“Do not even think to draw your weapons.”

Reaper tilts his head mockingly. “You won’t kill me.”

Hanzo lets out a low growl. “No. I will not.” He pulls the bowstring tighter. “But I will incapacitate you if necessary.”

They both tense further when they hear Mercy arrive. Hanzo doesn’t turn to greet her; his eyes never leave the Reaper. 

“Gabriel,” she says gently, her voice weighted by sadness and concern. Hanzo watches that bony mask turn towards Mercy very slowly, so slowly that he’s not sure if the Reaper is actually moving. But when that mask turns back to face him fully, he recognises the gesture for the threat that it is. 

Hanzo releases his arrow. It hits Reaper in the shoulder, but he rolls with the impact and moves forward with frightening speed. He’s too close for Hanzo to draw another arrow, so the demon stands protectively in front of Mercy, holding his bow between himself and Reaper.

He grabs Hanzo’s bared wrist firmly. He feels hot, searing liquid on his skin.

_Holy water._

Hanzo pulls away with a sharp cry, and the Reaper kicks him backwards into Mercy. They tumble and fall, landing in a heap on the floor. Reaper saunters over to them, shotguns drawn.

“No time, Gabe!” Sombra shrieks, sprinting towards Reaper. She grabs his arm quickly.

“Don’t let them get away!” comes McCree’s voice, strained and desperate. Hanzo stands up as quickly as he can manage, but it’s not fast enough; the two terrorists have disappeared into purple light before he can even nock another arrow.

“God _dammit!”_ McCree yells. “Not again!”

Hanzo slumps backwards against the nearest wall he can find. Reaper didn’t use enough holy water to do any serious harm, but enough to make him feel queasy and short of breath.

“Hanzo?” Jesse approaches him. “Are you ok?” 

He lifts his arm to better look at the burn on his wrist. Jesse notices it immediately.

“The hell?” he snarls.

“Holy water.”

McCree’s eyes widen. “He didn’t.”

Lúcio whistles. “Damn. He really doesn’t like you.”

“No, he don’t,” Jesse grumbles, holding the demon’s arm gently to look more closely at his injury.

“He told me why,” Hanzo says quietly.

Jesse looks up at him with wide eyes. “What? Really?”

“He thinks that I have trapped you with a deal.”

Jesse’s eyes widen even more. “Oh my God…”

“Exactly. He said that he would do everything in his power to rid you of me.” Hanzo tilts his head. “So, in a rather twisted way, he really does still care for you.”

Jesse exhales heavily, letting go of Hanzo’s arm and pinching the bridge of his nose while his other hand sits on his hip. Angela approaches the demon carefully.

“How did he manage to get passed the charm?” she asks gently.

Hanzo nods to the crushed remains of his charm. “He removed it from my person.”

Angela looks to the floor quickly, then looks back at Hanzo. She holds a hand out, gentle and inviting. “May I?”

Hanzo holds out his arm, and Angela takes his hand gently, careful not to move the arm too much. She clicks her tongue.

“Right now I can only disinfect it and bandage it, but when we get back to the hotel, Lúcio and I can apply a salve that should repair the skin.”

Injured and tired, all Hanzo can do in response is utter a tired ‘thank you’ while looking resolutely at his boots. 

“I am so sorry, Hanzo,” Angela whispers. “It has been a while since I’ve had to be a combat medic. I just… I didn’t react fast enough when he charged us. I’m sorry.”

Hanzo looks at his arm again; his skin is bumpy and blistered, and the ink of his tattoo looks entirely too bright and saturated where the holy water touched it. He looks up at Angela with a weak smile.

“He moves stupidly fast,” he says with a light chuckle. “It is not your fault at all.”

They head back to the hotel, once again empty-handed, but at least with _some_ answers this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we know why Reaper hates Hanzo so much! Because a demon hanging around you all the time means you're in their debt... it totally couldn't be that you're dating them...
> 
> Aaaaanyway, while I'm Chilean and my family doesn't celebrate _Dia de los Muertos,_ I do have a very intense love for the festival and how it's celebrated. My grandad (we called him Tata) passed away on the 3rd of November 2011, which is just after Day of the Dead, so ever since then, I've learned as much as I could about this festival and how those who celebrate it are really just celebrating and uplifting the lives and memories of their dead relatives. And it just really resonated with me because my Tata was such a remarkable man, and I never wanted to forget all he did for us, and I just wanted to talk about his achievements and my memories of him all the time. And it's such a beautiful way to remember and celebrate people.
> 
> Also, I did some research on _pan de muertos_ (which is bread that's baked especially for the _Dia de los Muertos_ celebration) and in some regions, it can only be eaten in the days leading up to November 1 and 2, and in other regions, it's eaten all throughout October. So yeah... Dorado can be one of those regions lmao


	13. Satellite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You don’t feel the heat until you hold your hand over the flame_   
>  _You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays_   
>  _You won’t know your worth now, son, until you take a hit_   
>  _[And you won’t find the beat until you lose yourself in it.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Om5uXsD-aVo) _   
> 

Hanzo rubs a thumb along the bandage that is wrapped firmly around his forearm. Right over his tattoo. His eyes shift upwards, to his bicep, where a small amount of scarring is still visible. It’s where he was bitten by a vampire not too long ago, and the skin hadn’t healed properly; he suspects vampire venom hinders the process somewhat. And it had removed the ink.

His tattoo has a lot of painful history behind it, but he would rather not lose it altogether. He rubs at the bandage again and wonders if the skin will heal properly. And if not, whether he’ll even have a tattoo left by the time Jesse retires from hunting.

He leaves the bathroom of their rented villa and saunters out of the bedroom and over to the balcony connected to the open living area. Before he exits to the balcony, he shifts into his human skin. Jesse sits outside alone, smoking one of his cigarillos and sitting at the little table on a small ornate chair. Entirely too small for Jesse’s long frame.

“Lúcio and Angie are back at the _mercado,”_ he says quietly. “Wanted fresh ingredients for some Brazilian stew.”

Right, the _mercado:_ the marketplace. Hanzo sighs, looking at his hunter. His shoulders are drooped, his eyes are down and unfocussed, and he is spending more time fiddling with the cigarillo rather than smoking it.

The demon takes a seat next to him, but he doesn’t fare any better than Jesse with all his bulk on such a tiny chair. He gets as comfortable as physically possible, then rests a hand gently on Jesse’s metal one. “Talk to me,” he implores.

“I have built an altar for Gabriel for the last six years. I’ve been mourning him an’ paying my respects and prayin’ that his spirit found peace, and here he is. In anythin’ but peace.” He takes in a heavy breath. “I’ve been around long enough to know that once things change, they can never go back to how they were. I know this, and yet I still want everythin’ to be how it used to be.”

Hanzo doesn’t know what to say to that. And honestly, what is there to say? He tucks himself into Jesse’s side, resting his head on his hunter’s shoulder.

“It will take a while for you to process all of this. You just need to do it in your own time, when we are not working a case.”

Jesse hums in agreement. Hanzo nudges him and continues:

“And remember that I will be right here the entire time.”

Jesse leans into Hanzo. And then he turns his head and places a firm yet sweet kiss on Hanzo’s temple.

“I don’ know what I did to deserve you,” Jesse whispers, “but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

Hanzo thinks of his past, of his violence and exploits and his illicit financial schemes, and he wonders how _he_ managed to deserve a man like Jesse McCree. Of all the wretched beings that deserved a second chance more than he does. And yet, here he is. But he says none of it. Not now, anyway; right now, he needs to focus on helping Jesse through what has been an unreasonably dramatic month.

After a time, Jesse speaks up again:

“I don’ know about you, but my ass is numb.”

Hanzo chuckles. “You _have_ been sitting out here for a while now.”

Jesse stands up and stretches. “I need to do somethin’.”

Hanzo leans forward, resting his head in his hands and batting his eyelashes. “Like what?”

Jesse remains oblivious, pulling his arms back to maximise the stretch. “I dunno. Like a puzzle book or somethin’. Preferably ones with word puzzles.”

“You cannot think of anything else you’d like to do?”

Jesse finally looks at him and notices the way that he’s sitting. And his eyes roam down Hanzo’s body slowly, then come back up to his face. He fixes Hanzo with a smug smirk.

“Naw,” he drawls playfully, “can’t think of nothin’ else.”

Hanzo can’t help but laugh. “You are a tease,” he purrs. He stands as well and stretches out his back; not only are the chairs entirely too small, but they are very hard as well. “How long until the medics are back?” he asks. 

“I dunno,” Jesse mutters, checking his phone. “Maybe 10, 15 minutes?”

_Plenty of time,_ Hanzo thinks. He moves closer to Jesse, but still leaves him some space. “Did you want some intimate time?”

Jesse smiles slyly. He places a gentle hand on Hanzo’s face and strokes his cheek with his thumb. “I would definitely be up for that, but you need to be careful with your arm.”

“Hah!” Hanzo scoffs, giving Jesse a defiant grin. “I have endured worse!”

“Don’t mean you gotta push yerself.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Why are you so dramatic?” Jesse chuckles, slinging an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. They head back inside and into their bedroom, where Hanzo shifts back into his natural skin. He presses up against Jesse and kisses gently along his neck. 

They fall onto the bed, laughing and nuzzling. Jesse wraps his long legs around Hanzo’s waist, and the demon sighs appreciatively. 

They proceed gently and slowly, but despite this, he feels Jesse hardening against his abdomen. Hanzo reaches down slowly, teasing with gentle scrapes of his claws, eliciting shudders and sharp exhales. 

He unlatches Jesse’s belt slowly and teasingly, then moves on to unbuttoning and unzipping his hunter’s jeans. He reaches in, and when he feels the clammy heat in Jesse’s underpants he sighs happily. He can feel Jesse’s grip tightening on his shoulders, but the man remains stubbornly quiet.

Jesse slowly sits up, pushing back so that he’s resting on the headboard, then he presses his face into Hanzo’s neck while his flesh hand runs down the demon’s sternum, and keeps dropping lower and lower. It’s then that Hanzo realises that he is completely soft.

He withdraws his hand from Jesse’s pants and lets out a short alarmed squawk. Jesse stops immediately.

“Everythin’ ok?”

Hanzo’s mind goes blank; he doesn’t know how to answer that.

“Uhhhhh…” is all he can manage. 

Jesse sits up straighter and holds Hanzo’s face gently. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I just…” Hanzo looks down and away from Jesse’s face. “My body is not reacting how I wish it to.”

Jesse hesitates, but for only a moment. “You _did_ get a holy water burn.”

“But I am fine!” he blurts out, embarrassed and frustrated by this turn of events.

“I’m sure you _feel_ fine,” Jesse says gently, “but yer body’s still recovering. Like a hangover.”

Hanzo eyes him dubiously. “You feel ‘fine’ after a hangover? No headache or unsettled stomach?”

He shakes his head in an exaggerated fashion. “Nope. Just tired.”

“Are you sure you are entirely human?” asks Hanzo playfully, leaning in close.

Jesse laughs gently. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just a good Southerner is all.”

Hanzo isn’t entirely sure what that means. He lowers his head so that his face is mushed up against Jesse’s chest. Then he lowers the rest of his body onto Jesse, letting out a low grumble. Jesse is quick to wrap strong arms around him.

“Y’know,” he says quietly, starting to run soothing fingers through Hanzo’s hair, “we can just cuddle if you’d prefer.”

At this point, cuddles are exactly what Hanzo needs. He muffles a sad sigh into Jesse’s chest. “I am sorry,” he mutters.

“Hey, you ain’t got anything to be sorry about.”

“Hn,” Hanzo grumbles dismissively.

“I mean it. If I really wanted to get off, I’d just go to the bathroom an’ take care of myself.”

Hanzo chuckles, then tucks himself closer into his hunter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

They only get five minutes of cuddle time in before the medics get back. Even before they hear the gentle _beep_ of the card key, they can hear Lúcio’s excited voice.

“Better make myself decent,” Jesse says under his breath with a smile. Hanzo pushes himself up so that Jesse can zip and button up his jeans. They head out of the bedroom as Angela enters, holding the door open for Lúcio, who is carrying several heavy-looking and lumpy canvas bags.

“They weren’t selling mussels,” Lúcio says as he rushes the canvas bags over to the bench, “so we’re only missing one ingredient. I got everything else, though – even the saffron!”

Hanzo heads over to help unpack the groceries. There are a lot of Jesse’s usual ingredients; tomatoes, garlic, onions and cilantro. But there is a lot of seafood, and Hanzo eyes it eagerly; it had been a while since he’d eaten clams and crab _this_ fresh. 

“Ok, people!” Lúcio calls out in a booming voice, “this’ll need to be a coordinated effort! We need to get those clams in the water, and those herbs all chopped!”

“Alright, boss,” Jesse chuckles, “tell us what to do.”

It takes the four of them about 20 minutes to get all of the necessary ingredients prepared and into one big pot, and another 10 minutes for the stew to cook. When it’s finally all prepared and served, Hanzo doesn’t wait for his stew to cool; he tries a large gulp of the broth. He can taste the sharpness of pepper, the sweetness from the ripe tomatoes and the cilantro, and the unmistakeable tang that comes from freshly prepared seafood.

He doesn’t realise Lúcio is staring at him incredulously until Jesse starts chuckling.

“You haven’t seen him gulp down boilin’ hot tea before,” he says. 

After they’ve finished their meal, everyone decides they need an early night, with both Angela and Lúcio firmly insisting that Hanzo needs as much rest as he can get.

But that night in Jesse’s arms, Hanzo’s injury bothers him. He removes himself carefully and heads to the bathroom. He slowly unwraps the bandage that covers his forearm. He doesn’t realise that he had been holding his breath until he pulls the bandage a little tightly and it rubs against his burn. 

He regulates his breathing before uncovering his injury. _Three seconds in, four seconds out. Repeat._

When he feels calm enough, he gently removes the remainder of the bandages. The skin still looks tender, but it feels considerably better than it did yesterday.

There isn’t much that Hanzo can do to alleviate the stinging, aside from applying a fresh coat of salve. He does so, redresses his arm, and then slinks back to bed. As he settles under the sheets, Jesse laughs in his sleep. The demon smiles fondly; it had been a while since he’d had a sleep talking conversation with Jesse. 

“What is so funny?” he asks quietly.

“You grabbed my bottom!” he squeaks, sounding very amused. 

Hanzo quickly covers his mouth to stop his laughter.

“Shhhh,” Jesse coos, shuffling closer to Hanzo and wrapping his arms around him. “Shhh, go back to readin’ yer book.”

When Hanzo is calm again, he removes his hand and positions himself so that he can rest comfortably in Jesse’s arms without further aggravating his injury. When his hunter’s breathing slows back down, and he is snoring gently, Hanzo feels restful, and falls asleep promptly.

 

~~~~~~

 

Lúcio and Angela head back out to the _mercado,_ hoping to gather more information on Reaper and Sombra. Hanzo is expressly forbidden from exerting himself, and Lúcio demands that Jesse pinkie swear to him that he wouldn’t let Hanzo do anything too demanding. 

They both end up on the balcony alone again. Hanzo leans on the railing, enjoying the cool sea breeze while Jesse sits at the table, fiddling with the ash tray.

Hanzo spots a lone figure in a hood walking slowly towards the hotel building. Something about this figure unsettles him; they’re in shorts and a sleeveless hoodie, but their dark skin is greyed. A vampire perhaps?

Jesse gets up to look; he too must have felt that something was wrong. He watches alongside Hanzo as the figure gets closer and closer. They slow down as they get closer, and once they reach the base of the balcony, the figure looks up, and the scent of the Reaper hits Hanzo full-force. 

They’re both frozen in place. How had he found them? The Reaper looks calm, despite the fact that his eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses. After he’s looked up at them for a minute, he casually looks down, then heads to a nearby alleyway. 

Hanzo immediately grabs his bow and quiver.

“Honey, no!”

But he’s not listening; he is out of their villa and running down the internal fire escape’s stairs before Jesse can stop him. And he is heading straight to that alleyway to demand answers.

He already has his bow drawn at the black-hooded figure before anything can be said. Hanzo looks him over: Reaper’s exposed arms are well-muscled and scarred; the face under the hood is also scarred, and there appears to be some rotting at one of the corners of his mouth; his eyes are completely hidden under his dark sunglasses – Hanzo can’t even see where the Reaper is looking.

Reaper barely acknowledges Hanzo; all the demon gets is pursed lips and folded arms.

He hears Jesse burst out of the emergency exit door and run closer to the two of them. Reaper doesn’t move an inch.

“Gabriel?” Jesse pants.

“Yep.”

His hunter swallows thickly, schooling his face into a neutral expression. “What do you want?” Jesse sounds careful, distant.

“Was hoping to talk again. And maybe get you to actually _listen_ to me this time.”

Hanzo tenses, lifting the arrow from the Reaper’s throat to his face. 

He lets out a long suffering sigh. “I don’t have much time, so I’ll need your _demon_ to leave us.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Reaper steps closer to Jesse, their faces a breath apart. Jesse stands his ground, and Hanzo pulls his bowstring a little tighter. It’s only now that Hanzo realises the two of them are the same height; Jesse just looks taller because he’s not as stocky.

“You don’t look enthralled,” Reaper says simply.

“That’s because I ain’t. An’ I didn’t make any deals either, if that’s what you were thinkin’.”

“Then why the hell does this demon follow you everywhere? Protection? Loyalty?”

Jesse’s face turns red. And he takes a step backwards. “We’re uh… we’re together. Like partners. Y’know, like…” Jesse waves his hand in circles, looking down at his feet. “Partners.”

Hanzo holds in a sigh; getting all flustered right now is not good. But he can’t help but find it adorable every time his bold, confident hunter gets tongue-tied and awkward.

The Reaper’s mouth drops open. Then he looks to Hanzo, and looks back to Jesse. Back to Hanzo, then back to Jesse. 

_“What?”_ he snaps, teeth bared and nose wrinkled. It’s then that Hanzo notices that he has at least three sets of canines, all of which are larger than human canines should be.

“You heard me,” his hunter says firmly. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jesse!” He throws his head back dramatically before returning his gaze to Jesse. _“Really?”_

“Yes, really!”

Reaper inhales sharply through his nose. He then brings his hands up to his face, pressed together as in prayer. He then starts whispering in Spanish. It sounds a _lot_ like whatever Jesse had muttered when Hanzo had run off on his own on their last hunt. He loosens the bowstring and lowers his bow ever so slightly. 

“Gabriel?” Jesse asks quietly, taking another small step back.

“Sleeping around while you were on the job was one thing. Bringing home your _targets_ is on a whole ‘nother level of nope.”

“Gabriel-”

“Ok, you know what… never mind. Just, stop coming after me. Please.”

“I already told you, I ain’t-”

“Save it, Jesse! Just stop chasing me. And stay away from Jack; that asshole has his head so far up his own ass-”

“Oh, an’ you don’t?”

“Well, if your _boyfriend_ wasn’t here, I could talk to you about it.”

Hanzo growls, teeth flashing in a fierce snarl.

“As it is,” the Reaper continues, completely unfazed, “all I can say is stop chasing me, and stay away from Jack. He thinks he has answers, but all he’s got is speculation. Heavily biased speculation at that.”

Jesse visibly hesitates before he speaks up again. “He said he’s been following you.”

“Yep. With lethal force. Never wanted to stop and chat. Which is why I had to resort to _this.”_ He spits out that last word with so much disdain and sadness, Hanzo almost feels sorry for him. He relaxes his grip even more, but still keeps the arrow pointed at the Reaper’s face. 

“What?” Jesse whispers. 

“He instantly marked me as a threat. Didn’t want to help. He and Ana are so close, too. Couldn’t go to her.”

Jesse lets out a choked sob. “Gabriel, you could’ve come to me!”

“Wasn’t gonna drag you into anything. And I know you don’t like secrets. Wouldn’t have asked you to keep me hidden with Ana that close to you-”

“What do you mean?!” Jesse is just about sobbing now, his breathing heavy and uneven. “Gabriel, I woulda had yer back one hundred percent! All ya had to do was ask-”

“I’d never ask something like that of you, _niño._ Never.” He sighs heavily, his posture softening. “Anyway, keep clear of Jack. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he never respected you as a hunter. You don’t need that bullshit.”

Hanzo lowers his bow completely now. This isn’t the Reaper anymore; this is Gabriel Reyes. This is the man that everyone adores, that everyone misses, that everyone wants back so desperately.

Jesse takes in a shaky breath. Then he takes a quick step forward. 

“What… what are you doing?” Gabriel asks.

Jesse doesn’t reply; he takes another step. Hanzo’s fingers twitch, ready to fire in case this exchange goes south.

“Jesse, what are you doing?” the wraith asks again. But his hunter doesn’t reply. He keeps stepping forward until he and Gabriel are chest to chest. Then he gives him a crushing hug.

Gabriel stiffens, then slowly returns the hug.

“Ok… ok, this is happening. This is fine.”

Jesse sniffs loudly.

“Oh no,” Gabriel says quickly. “Oh no, Jesse, please no. If you start, then I’ll start, and then we’ll be a big fucking collective mess.”

“S-sorry, boss,” Jesse whispers, sniffing loudly again. 

Hanzo watches the Reaper’s face closely. He can’t see his eyes at all, but the sharp downturn of his mouth, and the way he swallows thickly tells the demon all he needs to know; this is the Gabriel Jesse knew and loved. 

When they pull apart, the Reaper places a rough hand on Jesse’s neck, brotherly and affectionate. 

Then he turns to Hanzo. “If you hurt him, I will make your death slow and painful.”

“Gaaaaabe,” Jesse hisses. 

Hanzo nods stiffly, then says harshly “I would expect nothing less.”

“Good. Then we have an understanding.” His firm demeanour melts away as soon as he faces Jesse again. “Remember: leave me to it. I’ll take care of everything.”

Jesse takes in a shaky breath and then nods. “Ok, boss.”

With a final authoritative nod, Gabriel turns and walks right out of the alleyway and back onto the main street.

Jesse’s loud sniffing gets his attention. Hanzo slings his bow around his torso and walks up to Jesse. His hunter doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I, uh. I think we should head back on up to our room.”

“I think so too.” Hanzo takes his hand and they walk back up through the fire escape.

When they get back, Jesse heads straight to the balcony and lights up a cigarillo. Hanzo takes a seat next to him. Hanzo stays silent, waiting for Jesse to speak first. 

“So,” Jesse says suddenly, causing Hanzo to jump, “what did you think of my over-protective undead uncle?”

Hanzo ignores his glib tone and answers honestly. “I… do not know what to think. He was very gentle with you. And yet, when he is acting out his Reaper persona, he is violent and cruel.”

“You know what I think?” Jesse’s voice becomes serious. “An’ this strictly stays between you an’ me, ok?”

Hanzo nods eagerly.

“I think he’s tearin’ down that terrorist organisation from the inside.”

The demon folds his hands in his lap, looking at the table’s surface. “That would make sense, given that he is insistent that you leave him be. Keeps you out of danger, and makes sure his cover is not blown.”

“Right. An’ what better revenge against assholes that put conditions on yer life?” He wedges his cigarillo in his mouth and begins fidgeting with his metal fingers and bouncing his leg. “I don’t think we should tell Jack about this. Or Ana.”

“Agreed,” Hanzo replies quickly. “What about Fareeha?”

“I… I don’t know yet. All I know is that we should tell Jack that Reaper got away.”

“And what if the Reaper is playing us?” 

Jesse’s face falls into an uncomfortable scowl. 

“I know it is an awful thing for you to consider, but we must be cautious.”

“No, you’re right. Let’s just proceed with caution, then. Take things slow an’ careful.”

Hanzo places a comforting hand on Jesse’s face, but it only rests there for a second before his arm starts stinging. He can’t help but grab his arm and try to rub the stinging away.

“Ooooh, you’re in trouble!” Jesse teases. “The medics told you not to strain yer arm!”

“You promised to not allow me to!” Hanzo counters with a sly smile.

“Well, shit. Better put some ice on it so it at least doesn’t look like you were strainin’ it earlier today.”

He grumbles, but decides to comply. He spends a good amount of time fussing over the ice and placing it in a small enough baggie and then delicately wrapping it in a tea towel to avoid getting the bandages damp. He does not at all notice when Jesse silently slips out.

But he does notice that Jesse is missing when he steps out of their room and back into the living area. 

He moves quickly to the front door and notices it’s closed neatly. _How the hell did Jesse get it closed without making a sound?!_

He rests his forehead against the door. _Three seconds in. I am going to kill him. Four seconds out. Three seconds in. I love him, but I am going to kill him anyway. Four seconds out._

Before he inhales again, he hears footsteps approaching. Heavy enough to be Jesse. 

_Payback time._ He looks around for something tall to perch on. He decides on the bookshelf near the door; he pulls himself up with his uninjured arm, then sits cross-legged and waits.

Jesse opens the door slowly, peering in, but not looking up. He quickly slips in, turns around, and presses the door closed slowly. It still amazes Hanzo that such a tall and boisterous person can manage to be virtually silent. 

When Jesse steps away from the door, he finally looks up at where Hanzo is waiting. He leaps a foot into the air and clutches at his heart dramatically.

“Jeeee-heeee-sus!” he snaps. “What are you-?”

“Do not ask me what I am doing when you are sneaking back in.”

Jesse looks up at him defiantly. But he concedes first.

“Come down here, then.”

Hanzo drops quickly to the floor, then looks at Jesse expectantly. 

“I, uh… I slipped Gabriel a post-it. I knew he noticed, and I knew he’d reply quick. So I, uh… just ran down to get it.”

Jesse presses a small and scrunched piece of paper into Hanzo’s hand. The demon unfurls it, pressing it out flat with his thumbs. On it are two words written in Jesse’s neat handwriting:

‘How long?’

Hanzo turns the post-it over, and two more words are on this side, but in a quick, no-nonsense hand:

‘ONE YEAR’

“Now that you’ve seen this,” Jesse says quickly, grabbing the paper and pulling his lighter from his pocket, “we can burn it.”

Hanzo completely agrees. He sighs thickly. “And what of Angela and Lúcio?”

“We’ll need to tell Lúcio, otherwise Morrison’ll get him to keep trackin’ Reaper, an’ he’ll get in Gabriel’s way.”

“And Angela?”

“She can keep a secret.”

Hanzo scoffs bitterly. “From _you.”_

Jesse’s eyes widen, but he says nothing. The demon exhales, then places a hand on Jesse’s face. “I am sorry.”

“No, you have a point. We need to tell as few people as possible to make sure Gabriel can keep his eyes on the prize.” He looks down at his feet. “An’ I guess Angie doesn’t need to know.”

Hanzo looks at Jesse more insistently, but he won’t look up to meet his eyes. Resigned, Hanzo drops his eyes too. “So just Lúcio and Fareeha, then?”

“Seems that way.”

Hanzo moves into his arms. Jesse hugs him immediately. 

“We’ll be ok,” Jesse whispers, more for his own comfort than Hanzo’s. “We’ll be alright. Just need to hold out for a year.”

Hanzo hugs back, not saying aloud the words on his mind:

_A lot can happen in one year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * heralds the release of this chapter as a mighty victory because I dropped it in less than a month, even tho it'll be a full month in liek three days :'DDD *


	14. The Dirt Whispered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking heck. It's been two and a half emotional and busy months. I'm actually scheduling an alarm so I can get the next chapter out in exactly a month, or less lmao.

Hanzo and Jesse sit at the kitchen table. He stares at his tea forlornly; he doesn’t know why he bothered to make it, given that his stomach feels so unsettled. He had reluctantly agreed to allow Angela in on their discovery about the Reaper, and that decision isn’t sitting well with him.

When the medics return in the early evening, Jesse pounces.

“Emergency meetin’. Sit down.”

Lúcio looks to Angela, concerned and perhaps a little frightened. Angela does not look away from Jesse at all, even when she moves to the table and takes her seat.

“You’ve found something, then.”

Jesse inclines his head towards her. He then looks to Lúcio. “Nothin’ I’m about to say can leave this room.” He looks back to Angela. “Understood?”

Lúcio nods eagerly, his eyes wide and his expression serious. Angela’s mouth twitches slightly, as if she’s about to argue, but she thinks better of it, swallows thickly and nods her head once.

Jesse explains their encounter with Reaper, his realisation about his intentions, and finally, the note (which is now a cold ash pile in the trash). Hanzo remains silent the entire time, but he watches the medics’ reactions closely; Angela keeps eerily still, and Lúcio is as expressive as ever. 

When he finishes, Jesse leans back in his chair with his arms folded.

“Remember,” he says again, “no one can know about this.

Lúcio nods firmly, but Angela argues immediately.

“I’m not sure about keeping this from Jack and Ana.”

“I am,” Jesse says immediately, “they’re the reason he’s stuck like this.”

“Jesse, you weren’t there! You-” she stops suddenly. She inhales slowly, closing her eyes. “You didn’t see him when he woke up-”

“You kept that secret from me for _six years._ You can keep this one from Jack and Ana for one.”

Angela’s mouth drops open. She shuts it quickly, sits a little straighter in her seat and says quietly “that is fair.”

The silence that falls is heavy and uncomfortable. Lúcio shifts a little in his seat.

“Do you think we should at least _fake_ pursue Reaper?” Lúcio looks at Hanzo and Angela, a little uncertain. “I mean, wouldn’t it be suspicious if we suddenly stopped tracking him and just left him completely alone?”

“You’re right,” Jesse grumbles.

“I can make it look like I’m still chasing him up. And I mean, Jack won’t just let it go, so I need to fool him, too.”

“Kid-” Jesse starts, but Lúcio continues.

“It’s easy enough to do. It won’t be any trouble, trust me.”

Jesse sighs heavily. He leans forward and places his face in his flesh hand. 

“I need a strong drink. Maybe three.”

Hanzo is very much inclined to agree. “Shall we go down to the _mercado_ for drinks?” he asks.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Jesse rasps. He sounds so thoroughly tired and defeated. “I’ll jus’ empty out the minibar.”

“That’s so expensive, though!” Lúcio protests.

“Don’ matter. I’ll pay for it.”

Lúcio scooches closer to Jesse. “I can run down and get some beers?”

“Naw, it’s fine.”

“C’mon,” Lúcio whispers, playful but gentle. “I know you’d prefer a full bottle to those tiny ones.”

Jesse just grumbles wearily. 

Hanzo takes decisive action; “Very well. I will head down and buy us beer.” He stands with authority and purpose. No one else speaks up. Satisfied, he heads to his and Jesse’s bedroom. 

Once changed into fresh clothes and his human skin, he heads back out to the open kitchen and dining area. Everyone is still seated, but Jesse is now pressed even flatter onto the table with his head resting on his upper arms.

Hanzo goes to him. He strokes his hair gently, brushing it out of his eyes.

“I will get you some good beer,” Hanzo says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Angela rises from her seat. “I will accompany you.”

The demon looks up at her in surprise. She shrugs quickly, but it’s such a slow and defeated gesture, Hanzo doesn’t want to argue with her. 

He nods, and looks back at Jesse. “We will try not to take too long.”

“Don’t worry Hanzo!” Lúcio says cheerily. “I’ll take care of him!”

Hanzo looks at all five feet of Lúcio, and then at Jesse’s six-foot frame. His hunter could easily throw Lúcio onto his shoulder and hold him in place with one hand, then raid the minibar with the other hand. Then again, Lúcio is so sweet and calm and understanding, no one would ever feel compelled to throw him over their shoulder against his wishes.

The demon and witch head down in the elevator and out onto the street.

“Thank you for allowing me to tag along,” Angela says.

Hanzo throws her a questioning look. She sighs tiredly.

“I am… rather sensitive to external energies. As such, when everyone is in a down mood, I feel it rather strongly.” She stands a little straighter. “My muscles already feel more relaxed.”

They head towards the local bottle shop, which is passed the _mercado,_ but they need to walk through it to get to the bottle shop. It then occurs to Hanzo that he doesn’t know the Spanish word for ‘beer.’ 

“I hope it is close to the Italian word,” Angela mutters, “they’re reasonably similar languages.”

“You speak Italian?”

“Yes. In Zürich, we speak German as our first language, but we use Italian and French, too. I preferred Italian to French, so I kept practising and learning, but I can still speak enough French to get by. Although, my Italian did come in handy when we drove south for the summer; in southern Switzerland, they speak Italian.”

Hanzo just nods, floored that someone could be so nonchalant about being tri-lingual. As if speaking three different languages fluently is so normal in Switzerland. 

They quickly find out that _‘birra’_ is not even close to the Spanish word for ‘beer’ (which ends up being _‘cerveza’)._ After that, they both try to walk through the marketplace and straight to the bottle shop, but the smells and the vendors draw them in.

Hanzo and Angela separate briefly; he sees foods and drinks that he feels compelled to try. He likes most of it, and buys some to take back to the villa. He gets lost amongst colourful figurines and sculptures; skull-faced women in flowery dresses _(Catrinas),_ fantastical creatures painted every colour of the rainbow _(alebrijes),_ sugar sculptures in the shape of human skulls _(calaveras)._

He loves Dorado. And he can see himself here holidaying with Jesse on a regular basis.

_Uh oh._ Jesse. Hanzo had gotten so engrossed in everything for sale at the _mercado,_ he had completely forgotten about getting Jesse some beer.

He locates Angela, and together, they run to the bottle shop, get Jesse’s beer and head straight back to the villa. When they arrive at the hotel lobby, Angela’s phone begins to ring loudly.

“Oh, bother!” she hisses, glaring at her phone like it just bit her. “It’s a work call. You head on up, I’ll be right there!”

He decides to take the elevator. The doors are barely open when he smells burning. Panicked, he sprints along the hallway and ends up in front of their room in seconds. The burning smell is _definitely_ coming from in there.

He opens the door quickly, and a scared Lúcio stands there, holding his hands out as if trying to reassure a startled animal.

“Hanzo, I need you to promise me that you won’t get too mad. Please?”

He feels sick. “What happened?” he demands.

“Hanzo?” comes Jesse’s voice from their shared room. It’s thick and slurred, so he must have raided the minibar anyway.

“Please?” Lúcio begs. He looks as if he’s about to cry.

Jesse comes out, drunk and stumbling with a bundled white cloth in his hands. 

“Hey sweetpea, check this out.”

Lúcio is just about hyperventilating, and when Hanzo notices that in Jesse’s hands are his spare _hakama,_ he thinks he understands why the young man is so panicked.

“I made a li’l peephole. For yer tail.”

He holds out the _hakama,_ and that’s when Hanzo sees a perfectly circular hole lined with burnt fabric.

_Thank the Gods those are my spare_ hakama, is the first thought that goes through his head. The second thought through his head is _I should really be more upset right now._

“I even singed the edges so it wouldn’t fray,” Jesse announces happily.

Hanzo never gets the chance to get upset; his composure cracks and he starts chuckling into his hand. He gets himself under control, inhales heavily, and then looks up at Jesse. 

Mistake. His eyes are wide and excited despite his confused expression, and it sets off Hanzo’s chuckling all over again.

“What?” Jesse asks, laughing but still confused.

Hanzo laughs harder into his hand. Then he calms himself with a steady inhale, looks up at Jesse, who now looks haughty and unimpressed.

“You done?” he asks with an amused quirk to his brow.

Hanzo bursts out laughing. He laughs until he cries and until he gets a stitch in his side. Jesse makes his way back into the bedroom, saying something about “come talk to me when you’re ready,” which makes Hanzo laugh harder. 

When he’s finally calmed down, and Angela arrives upstairs, and it takes all of Hanzo’s strength to not start laughing all over again when she asks what she missed.

The beer gets left for another night; after the tail-hole antics, everyone’s mood is much lighter, and Jesse is already drunk enough.

When Jesse yawns widely and calls it a night, Hanzo is quick to follow. They get themselves ready for bed, then climb under the sheets. Jesse turns to face Hanzo.

“I didn’t wreck yer pants, did I?” he asks softly.

“No,” coos Hanzo, placing a gentle hand on Jesse’s face. And he supposes he deserves it, anyway; if he hadn’t been side-tracked at the _mercado,_ Jesse wouldn’t have had enough time to get terribly drunk and cut a hole into his clothes. 

“Ok,” Jesse says in a dopey fashion. He yawns widely again.

They curl up together, and Jesse is fast asleep before long. But Hanzo remains awake. He lies on his back with Jesse’s face pressed into his chest. He watches the rhythmic movement of Jesse’s breathing, and the occasional twitch of his fingers as he sleeps. He watches the digital alarm clock beside him get closer and closer to the morning. 

At 3am, he decides that his mind is entirely too active and that he won’t get any sleep anyway. He gets out of bed carefully, then puts on the _hakama_ with the tail hole. It takes a bit of unfamiliar manoeuvring to feed his tail through the gap, but once it’s through, Hanzo pulls them up to where they sit just below his waist and wraps the belts around and around with practised hands. 

Surprisingly, the tail hole is perfectly located; he can swing his tail widely from the base and not have his _hakama_ obstruct the movement.

He forgoes his boots and _kyudo-gi_ and simply throws on an old t shirt. With his feet bare, he sneaks quietly out of the shared bedroom and out onto the balcony.

He stands at the balcony door and makes sure that he is completely alone. He can neither see, nor smell, nor sense anyone else around him. Excited, he perches on the balcony railing. His balance is a little off; all of those years training as a Shimada meant that your tail was tucked away, and one had to learn how to balance without it. At least that is how he and Genji were trained; all the Shimada before them (including their father) had had their tails removed. 

When the railing isn’t enough, he hauls himself higher. He manages to climb onto the roof of the building. He leans over the edge, again looking for any unwanted eyes and ears. Detecting nothing, he steps back, gets a run-up and leaps over to the next roof. He sways slightly when he lands; it’ll take him a while to get used to having his tail unhindered.

He continues jumping across rooftops until he ends up in an area packed tightly with tall buildings, and he leaps and flips and bounds across and over the buildings of Dorado. It brings him back to his youth, when he and Genji would break out of the watchful eyes of the clan elders and leap across all of the buildings in the business district of Hanamura. 

He stops suddenly, feeling tired. _Genji._ He’d have loved this. He’d have lead them to the beach, where they’d have sat on a rooftop and watched the waves crashing and dancing in the darkness. They probably would have fallen asleep there (completely by accident) then woken up in a panic because Jesse and Lúcio would be stressing. 

Still with Genji on his mind, Hanzo makes his way to the sea, finding the roof of a beachside hotel to sit on for a while. Having his tail unhindered feels oddly freeing; odd in that it can move without being restricted by clothing, and freeing in that it can be out without the threat of having it hacked off.

The sunrise over the ocean is otherworldly. He’s never up early enough to catch the sunrise, and on nights that he doesn’t need sleep, he never bothers to watch it. And after this sunrise, he feels more compelled to make the effort.

He watches for another little while, then decides to head back to the villa. He stretches clumsily, kicking his legs out to get the blood flowing again. 

He gets back just before the sun has fully detached itself from the horizon. He lands on their balcony with an indelicate thud, startling a bleary-eyed Lúcio who is already at his computer. 

Hanzo opens the balcony door and lets himself back into the villa. 

“Hey, man,” Lúcio says tiredly. His eyes drop, most likely on Hanzo’s now visible tail. He looks back up to the demon’s face. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Not at all.”

Lúcio looks at him dubiously.

“Truly,” Hanzo insists, just as they hear clumsy movement from the shared bedroom.

Jesse emerges, wearing a frayed sweater and track pants. “Mornin’,” he yawns stiffly. “Hanzo, I had the weirdest dream. I cut a hole in yer pants for yer tail, an’ you were just laughin’ and… laughin’…” His hunter’s eyes drop to Hanzo’s exposed tail.

Watching Jesse progress through several emotions before he is properly awake is both hilarious and adorable. He goes from confusion, to disbelief, to comprehension, then shock.

“Oh, I did not…” he whispers, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. 

“But you did,” Hanzo chuckles. He swishes his tail emphatically.

Jesse keeps his hand over his mouth and keeps very still; the only part of him that moves are his eyes, and they continue to dart from Hanzo’s face to his tail.

“You ain’t mad?”

Hanzo shakes his head slowly, still smiling. Jesse remains stock still. Finally, his hand moves away from his mouth.

“Well, ok then.” He walks slowly over to the kitchen table and pulls a chair out clumsily, then sits heavily.

“So if I didn’t dream that shit up, what else did I do last night?” He looks at Lúcio hesitantly. “Did I rub yer beard an’ tell you how cool it was?”

Lúcio’s cheeks darken very suddenly. “Uh, yeah. You did that.”

Jesse groans and buries his face in his hands. “I am so sorry,” he mutters through his hands. 

“Nah,” Lúcio says with a dismissive wave, “it’s a pretty big honour being told my beard is cool by someone with a beard like yours.”

Jesse looks up slightly from his hands. “Please tell me I didn’t pour a bottle of beer into my boot and drink it?”

Hanzo and Lúcio both start laughing. Jesse remains silent.

“No,” Hanzo coos, “you did not drink anymore when I returned home.”

“Good,” Jesse grumbles, returning his face to his hands.

“Aw, c’mon McCree!” Lúcio laughs, punching Jesse’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be like that!”

Hanzo zones out, fixated on his tail; he doesn’t know what to do with it. It just _hangs_ there so heavily when it’s not squashed between his leg and his clothing.

“You all good there, Hanzo?”

His disquiet must have been showing on his face. “I am not used to having my tail unobstructed,” he mutters. He tries to flick it gently, but it ends up whipping wildly across.

He turns himself awkwardly, looking at his offending limb. He hears Jesse chuckle.

“Go on an’ put yer usual pants on,” Jesse coos. 

Hanzo gives Jesse a haughty look, but he complies. He goes to their shared bedroom where he puts on a pair of fitted jeans, careful to tuck his tail into his pant leg, like always. 

When he comes back out, Angela is in the kitchen filling up the kettle.

“We should probably stay another week,” she says tiredly. “If we are to keep up appearances.”

“Oh, no,” Lúcio sing-songs. “A whole week. Stuck in a beachside town.” He sighs, placing his chin in his palm. “Whatever will we do?”

They end up spending the day at the beach. Lúcio and Jesse head straight for the water, Jesse in his swim trunks, and Lúcio in a tightly fitting tank top made of wet suit material, and a pair of bright green short shorts. Hanzo and Angela choose to walk slowly along the shoreline instead. It isn’t long before Jesse is giving them both puppy-dog eyes and asking them to enjoy the water. Angela eventually removes her shoes and lets her feet soak in the water, but Hanzo is more than happy to continue walking alongside the water, rather than in it.

“Awww, c’mon honey!” Jesse cries. “The water’s so perfect!”

“Do not concern yourself with me,” Hanzo says, “I am content to just walk on the sand.”

Angela calls to Hanzo from where she stands in the water. “How much energy does it take to just shift your feet and above the ankle?”

“Wait, what?” Lúcio says, waddling out of the water and closer to their group. “You’re not all shifted under your clothes?”

“No,” Hanzo chuckles, smiling at Lúcio’s curious expression. “I am a demon, not a shifter; changes in my appearance are not all-or-nothing.”

“Uh huh… so how much energy _does_ it take to just shift your feet?”

_Not much at all,_ he thinks to himself. But instead of answering in that manner, Hanzo sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “Fine. You all win.” He removes his shoes, then rolls up his pant legs so that they sit on the middle of his lower leg.

He and Angela stroll slowly along the water line while Jesse and Lúcio splash and frolic loudly. Despite that disturbance, the walk through the water is peaceful. 

“The beach is so alive,” Angela says, her voice warm and excited.

Hanzo looks around the beach quickly before returning his attention to Angela. “I am guessing that you are not referring to human activity,” he says, rather than asks.

The witch inclines her head with a smile; she doesn’t need to answer him with words. 

When Jesse and Lúcio have had enough of the water, the two of them return to the foreshore to dry off and collect their clothes. Jesse reaches into his pant pockets suddenly. 

“Hold on!” he cries before quickly running back towards the water, where he shoots a photo of himself smiling with the beach’s rolling waves in the background.

“Why?” Hanzo asks. He tries not to laugh, but it’s impossible to hide his amusement. 

“I’m sending this to Pharah.”

Hanzo remembers that she and Ana are in Alaska. “You are a mean one,” Hanzo chuckles.

Jesse throws him his signature mischievous smile as he drapes his towel across his shoulders. They’re hardly off the sand when Jesse’s phone buzzes, and after barking out a short laugh, he shows everyone Fareeha’s return selfie:

She is in a hotel room next to a roaring fireplace. She has on a rainbow beanie, and everything below her nose is wrapped in a matching rainbow scarf. She looks like she is trying to be angry, but there’s a level of playfulness in her expression. 

They return to the villa and plan out a week of activities and pretending to stalk the Reaper.

 

~~~~~~

 

The flight home feels a lot shorter than the flight over. The drive home feels even shorter. Jesse sleeps the entire car ride, so Hanzo decides to keep Clara entertained with the Spanish he picked up.

“Please tell me ya learned some swear words?” she chuckles. 

He thinks he remembers one, but he’s not sure if it qualifies. “Does _pendejo_ count?”

Clara guffaws. “Barely. Here’s a free one for ya: _mierda.”_

Hanzo tries to wrap his mouth around the word, but it comes out all wrong. He’s gotten better at rolling his r’s, but immediately following that roll with a soft ‘d’ sound is a lot more difficult than he expects it to be.

Clara watches him thoughtfully through the rear view mirror. “Huh. Guess that one’s a li’l tricky. Here’s an easy one: _la chingada.”_

By the time they get back to Jesse’s house, Hanzo has learned a whole suite of swear words. He wakes Jesse with a gentle shake, and they get their things inside and thank Clara for her chauffer services. 

Hanzo tries to usher Jesse to bed, but his hunter won’t have it. 

“Naw, I’m wide awake right now,” he whines, rubbing his eyes. 

The demon folds his arms with a playful smirk. Jesse walks over to him with a tired smile, and he embraces him. Hanzo hugs back instantly, tucking his face into Jesse’s neck and pulling him close. 

They stand there for quite a while, just holding each other in silence.

“Y’know,” he says eventually, rubbing Hanzo’s back firmly, “we _could_ go to bed… but we don’t have to go to sleep.”

Hanzo hums into Jesse’s neck. “I like the way you think,” he says quietly. 

When they get to the bedroom, Jesse pushes Hanzo gently towards the bed. Hanzo goes, sitting on the edge of their bed, and pushing himself backwards. Jesse follows.

Hanzo lies on his back and lets Jesse hover over him. He lets Jesse take the lead, allows him to touch and press and kiss. It’s freeing, allowing himself to be pampered this way. To be vulnerable, but not afraid. It’s something he never thought he would allow, but with Jesse, it’s so natural. 

Jesse doesn’t bite or scratch, doesn’t pin or wrestle; only soft touches and gentle kisses. His affections are so tender it fills Hanzo with emotion. He sighs, long and low, feeling all of the stress and tension from their last mission seeping out of him.

!~*~!

He returns his attention to Jesse, who has started rubbing his crotch against Hanzo’s. 

“That will not end well if we do not remove our clothes first,” Hanzo chides.

“I don’t mind,” Jesse whispers with a soft smile, “we got laundry to do, anyway.”

Hanzo finds that he doesn’t mind either. He slips one arm around Jesse’s back, and places his other hand on Jesse’s cheek. 

Jesse quickens his pace, looking straight into Hanzo’s eyes. Hanzo’s breath hitches – it hits him that he is well and truly head-over-heels in love with this man in front of him. He swallows thickly, ignoring the way his heart races.

“You ok, honey?” Jesse breathes. Hanzo can’t answer; he doesn’t have the words, can’t even begin to describe how special Jesse is to him.

Instead of expressing himself with words, Hanzo pulls Jesse closer to him so that they are chest to chest. He grabs a handful of Jesse’s shirt and holds on tightly. He presses his face against Jesse’s neck and kisses every part of Jesse that his mouth can reach. Jesse moans in his ear, his chest heaving against Hanzo’s. 

They finish together with heavy breaths and iron grips on each other’s clothes. 

!~*~!

Hanzo allows Jesse to lie on top of him while they both catch their breath. He’s a little heavy, and Hanzo needs to take shallower breaths, but having Jesse’s entire body draped over his is so comforting. He thinks he finally understands why it is that Jesse asks him to lie on top of him when he’s feeling down.

They eventually undress and curl up under the sheets. Jesse faces away from Hanzo, and nestles his back into Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo wastes no time wrapping an arm around his hunter and pressing his lips to his neck.

They lie in silence for a time.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Hanzo freezes, overcome with intense emotion.

“I love you, too, my pet,” he ekes out, pulling Jesse even closer. 

Jesse places a hand on the arm Hanzo has wrapped around him, and sighs contentedly. They fall asleep peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only been to Zürich once, but I can confirm that all of their food packaging has German, then French, then Italian on it. And almost everyone speaks English _as well as_ German and/or French and/or Italian. Liek, when people there tell you "Oh, I did French in high school," that doesn't mean "I can count to 10 and say hi" like it does in most English speaking countries where you learn another language in high school -- it means they can speak _conversational_ French and could get by JUST FINE in any French-speaking country/city. Liek holy cheese, English-speaking countries need to UP OUR GAME hahahaha!


	15. Swing Life Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cheese, it's been a bastard 2 months, but here I am again! Not only did I get distracted by so much unnecessary drama and bullshit, but I also got distracted by an idea that turned into a monster........ _McHanzo Dragon Age: Origins AU..._
> 
> Aaaaaanyways, pls enjoy this chapter that took far too long to write ^^;

Hanzo wakes up feeling peaceful. Jesse wakes a little before he does, alert and ready for a new day. He rolls himself over to face the demon.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Breakfast time.”

Hanzo stretches languidly, and yawns widely. “In a moment, my pet.”

“Ok, then.” He promptly gets out of bed. “If I don’t get up now, I’ll never get out of bed today.”

“Would that be so bad?” Hanzo asks slyly.

“Fer my stomach? Yes. If it don’t get breakfast at the right time, I’m a grumpy old man fer the rest of the day.”

Hanzo sighs dramatically. “Very well. Let us get up then.”

They dress and enter the kitchen, where Hanzo decides that he’s making breakfast for Jesse for a change. He sets the rice cooker first, then gets to preparing the miso paste and the eggs. Jesse has to remind him to flick on the coffee machine.

They enjoy a quiet breakfast with little talk. Despite the quiet, it feels intimate, like something had changed. He’s not sure what it is, but he chooses not to dwell on it. Instead, he presses his bare foot against Jesse’s under the table. His hunter presses back, shooting him a lazy smile and wink from behind his coffee mug.

When he finishes his coffee, Jesse clears his throat. “I was, uh. I was hopin’ you could help me sort some of my books out later?”

Hanzo blinks. Then looks at his empty mug and empty breakfast dishes. “We can sort them now, if you’d prefer?”

“Yeah,” Jesse says. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He excuses himself from the table and disappears into his storage cupboard.

He returns shortly, and Hanzo stays seated at the table as he watches Jesse carry a large and dusty cardboard box.

He places the box on the table without a word, and removes his keys from his pocket and slices along the packing tape. 

“Is that filled with books?” Hanzo asks, standing up to peer into the box.

“Yep. They’re all Gabriel’s old books. He left them to me, an’ I just couldn’t bring myself to deal with his stuff because that meant I had to accept that he was really gone.” He sniffs absently. “It was a stupid thought. I mean, I built him ofrendas every year, but I couldn’t touch his old books?” He sniffs again. “Stupid.”

Hanzo walks over to Jesse and places a comforting hand on the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb up and down it. “We do not act or think logically when we are grieving. It is not at all fair to call yourself stupid for thinking this way.”

Jesse freezes suddenly. He takes in a heavy breath and looks at Hanzo. His eyes are damp, but he has a smile on his face. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Hanzo smiles back.

Jesse takes in another heavy breath, then he opens up the box. In it are countless books on demons.

“What…?” Hanzo whispers.

“Yeah, that was Gabe’s field of expertise. He was the go-to demonologist in the country.”

Hanzo swallows thickly. “That explains… quite a lot.”

Jesse chuckles. “He’s why I learned so much about demon families an’ hierarchies.” His eyes drop back to the books in their dusty box.

“Will you put them with your other books?”

“I suppose I will. He actually didn’t use ’em much. In fact,” Jesse reaches in and removes a thin book entitled ‘The Demons of Ours and Other Realms.’ “He used to quote this one to me verbatim.” Jesse furrows his brow in a comical fashion. “McCree! What are the _two things_ you need to look out for with demons in disguise?” Jesse suddenly breaks character, opening the book and rifling through it. “Hold on,” he chuckles gleefully, “I’m gonna see if I can find the direct quote in here.”

When he finds the page he wants, he clears his throat, pulls his shoulders back and puts on his ‘Gabriel face.’

“One of appearance, and the other of character.” He looks at Hanzo, waving a playful finger in his face. “In appearance, one should watch for wavering light and feelings of uneasiness. Of character, the demon is the fastest humanoid creature willing to make deals or compromises.”

Hanzo lets out a thoughtful hum. “Is that how you knew of my nature that first night we met?”

“Well, yeah. You were very quick to offer me help with my case.”

Hanzo folds his arms, reflecting on that first night when they had formally introduced themselves to each other. “Hn. I foolishly gave myself away because I was too eager to have you in my bed.”

Jesse lets out a throaty chuckle. He gestures towards the office with his head. “Help me put ’em on my shelf?”

They take the box to the office, where they begin placing the books in amongst the others. 

“Oh hey, I forgot about this book.” Jesse removes a small hardcover book. Embossed on the front of it are the words ‘Japanese Demon Families: Unusual Empires.’

Hanzo goes into autopilot and immediately grabs the book from Jesse’s hands. 

“Hey,” Jesse says, but his voice is oddly distant to Hanzo’s ears. He skims the contents page: _Foreword, A Brief Overview of Demon Hierarchies, Demon Families vs Demon Collectives--_

“Hanzo!”

He snaps out of his stupor, and looks at Jesse.

“It’s just history stuff.” He shrugs with a tired half-smile. “You guys did things differently. Y’all were very interestin’ to demonologists.”

“If Gabriel knew the contents of these books intimately, might he be able to guess my family name?”

Jesse’s eyes go wide. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Hanzo goes back to the contents page, and finds what he’s after: a chapter titled _‘The Shimada Clan.’_

He reads through it quickly, Jesse hovering over his shoulder and reading too. He’s about to turn a page when Jesse stops him.

“Hold up, hold up.” His finger finds its way to a paragraph on tail docking customs. “Yer family cut off their tails?”

“Yes. A coming-of-age ritual for Shimada. My father did not want his children to go through it, so we were trained to hide our tails.”

Jesse adopts a softer expression. “Yer Pa defied generations of tradition for you an’ Genji?”

Hanzo swallows thickly. “My father’s own ritual was… an uncommon experience as far as those rituals went, but it was scarring and horrific for him nonetheless.” Hanzo turns the page so he doesn’t have to look at the description of the ritual anymore. “As such, he took extreme measures to ensure his children were never subjected to it.”

Jesse places his hand on Hanzo’s. “So if Gabriel’s noticed your tail, there’s no way he can know you’re a Shimada.”

Hanzo looks at his tattooed arm. “The tattoo style is unmistakeable.”

“But you got a tail. And that’s been enough to throw both Sombra and Gabe. An’ look here,” he points to another paragraph. “Says Shimada keep their hair too short to tie up.”

“What?” Hanzo looks closer at the book. And sure enough, it describes ‘acceptable hair styles.’ He can’t help but laugh.

“This,” he says, holding the book with one hand, and gesturing at it with his other, “is bullshit.”

Jesse stares at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Yes. Shorter hair was definitely a favoured trend, but there was no rule or standard regarding hair styles.”

Jesse pauses, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If that’s the case, then we don’t need to worry about it.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah. Gabriel never kept in touch with clients outside of business. There’s no way he could know anything that isn’t in these books.”

Hanzo lets out a sigh of relief. But he’s not done with the book yet.

“I would like to read through this.”

“Suit yerself, honey.” Jesse picks up more books, and looks at the shelf. “Just don’t wake me up laughin’ at all the inaccuracies.”

Hanzo scoffs. “Then don’t fall asleep so early, old man.”

“Old man?!” Jesse squawks, indignant. “I’m younger than you!”

Hanzo scoffs again. “Only in years.”

“Those sound like fightin’ words,” he teases with a wide smile.

Hanzo nudges Jesse gently with his hip as he walks passed him. He nonchalantly grabs more books, and together, they place all of Gabriel’s old books on the office shelf.

Jesse steps back to admire their handy work. “There. Lookit how neat that looks,” he says with a wide and happy smile. Hanzo moves over to him and wraps his arms around his hunter’s waist. 

They stand in silence for a short while, and then they’re interrupted by Jesse’s phone buzzing. 

“I’ll check that later.”

It buzzes again, and he sighs, digging his hand into his pocket to pull it out.

Hanzo feels Jesse’s entire body tense up.

_Oh no,_ he thinks, _please. No more bad news._

“WHO?!” Jesse bellows.

Hanzo pulls away from him, concerned and extremely confused.

“Who?” he asks. Jesse shoves his phone in the demon’s face.

“WHO?!” he shouts again. Hanzo peers at the phone and sees what all the fuss is about:

From: Fareeha  
_Wouldn’t you like to know ;) <3_

_OMIGOSH SORRY WRONG NUMBER!  
PLS IGNORE!!!_

Hanzo looks at Jesse blankly with a single raised eyebrow. “I see nothing wrong here.”

“Nothing wrong?!” Jesse cries. “Pharah’s sexting some unknown person!”

“‘Sexting’? Jesse, that is a stretch-”

“Oh, an’ I suppose there’s another meanin’ to ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’ with a winky face at the end?”

“There could be,” Hanzo says. Although, he isn’t convinced of it himself. 

Jesse folds his arms and says nothing. He looks at Hanzo with an unimpressed expression.

Hanzo can only sigh in response. “Very well. How about we speak nothing of it for the time being-?”

“No way!”

“Jesse, we are working a case that requires all of our attention. Fareeha’s wrong text can wait.”

He lets out a disgruntled huff. “…Fine. But there’s no way I’m lettin’ this go and just forgettin’ all about it.”

“Nor would I expect you to,” Hanzo mutters. 

Jesse pouts at him. “Mark my words, Hanzo; as soon as this shit calms down, I’m gettin’ answers.”

Hanzo makes a non-committal grunt.

 

~~~

 

When night falls, and they are back in bed, things become heated again.

!~*~!

He allows Jesse on top of him again. And again, he doesn’t feel unsafe or uncomfortable, but it is such an unfamiliar position to him, he can’t help but feel his heart pounding furiously against his ribcage. Jesse looks at him with a questioning look.

“I am fine,” Hanzo says quickly. “I am just… not used to not being in control.”

Jesse’s face falls. “Honey, you are one hundred percent in control.” He sits back on his feet and rests his hands on his thighs. “You can tell me to go faster, go slower, to stop, to try somethin’ else… you are in complete control in this situation.”

Hanzo looks away from Jesse’s face with a quick dart of his eyes. 

“Heh,” he chuckles dryly, “I suppose you are right.” He looks back up at Jesse, who is watching his face closely.

“Did you wanna stop?”

“No. I would like you to take charge. I trust you with my body.”

“Awwww, that’s what I like to hear.” Jesse resumes his previous position hovering over Hanzo. “You sure yer ok?”

Hanzo grabs Jesse’s face softly in his hands and runs his thumbs along his scruffy cheeks. “I am much better now,” he purrs.

Jesse laughs softly and presses his face close to Hanzo’s. Hanzo closes the distance and kisses him. Jesse kisses back sweetly. 

He runs his metal hand up and down Hanzo’s body, alternating between light, feathery touches, and firmer presses and grabs. Hanzo can’t help but admire the level of dexterity Jesse had acquired with a prosthetic hand. 

Said prosthetic hand drops lower and lower until it sits in a very strategic position.

“How didja wanna do this?” Jesse breathes, looking at Hanzo adoringly. 

He almost chokes on his breath. “Together,” he grunts. 

“Awwwww-”

“Shush,” Hanzo chuckles.

Jesse takes them both in his metal hand, slow and gentle, but very deliberate. Hanzo drapes both arms over Jesse’s shoulders, crossing his wrists behind Jesse’s neck. 

He drops his head, and his lips find all of the sensitive spots on Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo sighs happily, and pulls Jesse closer. His hands roam across Jesse’s shoulders and back, his thumbs and fingers pressing down firmly against toned muscle. 

When they finish and Jesse wipes them both down, they lie under the sheets together, facing each other. Hanzo just watches Jesse’s face. Jesse shoots him his signature wide smile.

!~*~!

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” he purrs lazily.

The demon lets out a contented exhale. “I was wondering how you handle such delicate pieces of anatomy with such a chunky prosthetic.”

Jesse laughs, loud and deep. “Honey, one of _the_ first things I tried out with my prosthetic once I got the fine motor skills worked out, was jerkin’ off.”

Hanzo snorts, managing to be both surprised and unsurprised by Jesse’s answer. Before he can stop it, full-blown laughter escapes him, building slowly until it’s tumbling out of him. 

“What?” Jesse says, pushing himself more upright to better look at Hanzo, but his confused smile just spurs on the demon’s laughter. 

When Hanzo finally manages to calm himself, Jesse quirks an eyebrow at him.

“You done?” he asks playfully.

Hanzo takes one last steadying breath, and then he brushes Jesse’s hair out of his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you are an absolute delight?”

His face lights up with one of his brilliant smiles. “Not in so many words. Sounds real good comin’ from you, though.”

Hanzo pulls his hunter closer, and Jesse snuggles in. He falls asleep with his face pressed against Hanzo’s chest, and the demon falls asleep shortly after.

 

~~~~~~

 

_Two weeks later._

“I still don’t like it,” Jesse mutters to Hanzo.

“Nor do I, to be honest,” Hanzo replies. They are hosting a meeting with regards to the Reaper, and their progress on following him. Lúcio is conveniently unavailable, which means that they can deceive Jack and Ana more easily; Lúcio is too expressive and honest.

But it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Having to protect the Reaper for just under a year when he could be colluding and plotting against them. But they just have to trust that he is actually intending to dismantle Talon from the inside.

“I meant havin’ Morrison in my house,” Jesse sulks.

_Of course,_ Hanzo thinks. Jesse has complete faith in the Reaper (or in Gabriel Reyes), and he has no qualms about misleading Ana, given that she concealed Jack and Gabriel’s fake deaths from him for six years. 

Hanzo isn’t sure that he feels distrustful of Reaper because he doesn’t know very much about him, or if it’s because of the demon trap and holy water burn. Either way, he doesn’t like it. 

When the elder hunters arrive with Fareeha, Jesse gets straight into it. 

“Look, y’all,” he says with a resigned sigh, “I’m embarrassed and upset to admit it, but we lost Reaper’s trail.”

Fareeha’s face falls; she looks incredibly disappointed. Ana’s face remains unreadable, but Jack explodes. 

“How did you lose him?!” he demands. 

“He set up a decoy; we thought he was stayin’ at some dingy inn, but it turned out it wasn’t him.”

Jack begins muttering under his breath, arms folded firmly. Ana watches both Hanzo and Jesse closely, but she still says nothing. 

“I knew I couldn’t trust you with this!” Jack hisses suddenly.

“That is unfair-” Ana says, but she’s interrupted. 

“I’ve been on his trail for _years_ an’ I _almost_ had him!” 

Jesse says nothing, but Hanzo doesn’t miss how his jaw clenches.

There are a few painful seconds of silence, until Jack promptly storms out, not even offering Jesse and Hanzo a backward glance. Ana remains put.

“You are lying to us, Jesse McCree.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he drawls, guarded and emotionless. It always makes Hanzo uncomfortable when he hears Jesse speaking without a happy or playful lilt in his voice. Hanzo follows his lead and keeps himself free of emotion and expression too, but Ana doesn’t even bother to look at Hanzo.

“Do not insult my intelligence,” she says in a voice that is dangerously low. “Had you truly lost all track of the Reaper, you would be devastated, not staring me down with your Poker face.” She leans closer to the two of them, looking intently at both of their faces. “Unless you allowed him to get away.”

Both Hanzo and Jesse remain completely still. 

Ana stands quickly, her eyes burning fiercely with anger. She heads to the door, and turns to address Jesse, but Fareeha interrupts. 

“Let’s just go, Mom,” she says, defeated and crestfallen. They both leave without another word.

Hanzo waits until he can hear their car leaving. “I thought we would confide in Fareeha.”

“We will,” he says, “when she comes back.”

“What?”

“I gave her ‘the look.’ She’ll be back over in a couple hours.”

_‘The look’?_ Hanzo doesn’t even want to ask. Instead, he heads outside for some fresh air on the hammock.

It takes Jesse two cigarillos before Fareeha finally comes back. She parks her car in the backyard, where it can’t be seen from the main road. 

Hanzo watches her climb out and stomp over to the two of them.

“What is going on?” she asks defensively, folding her arms across her chest.

“We let him get away. An’ we need to make sure Jack doesn’t find him.”

Fareeha’s eyes double in size. _“Why?”_ she hisses.

Jesse doesn’t even look up at her. “He’s got a plan; he’s gonna dismantle that terrorist organisation from the inside.”

“And he told you this?”

Jesse pauses. “It was… heavily implied.”

Fareeha loses her intimidating composure and leans heavily against the railing. “I really hope that is his plan. I don’t even want to think of what could happen if it turns out he’s playing us.”

“Me neither,” Jesse says, letting out a long and defeated sigh. 

The three of them are silent for a time. 

“Who else knows?” Fareeha asks suddenly.

“Includin’ the three of us; Angela and Lúcio.” Jesse looks up at her, scratching his beard in that lazy way that means he’s up to something. “So I’ve answered an important question for you,” he drawls, “so I hope you can indulge me when I ask you one.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo hisses. He knows exactly what Jesse will ask her. 

“Awww, c’mon, it’s been killin’ me.”

Fareeha furrows her brow and looks from Jesse to Hanzo. “I take it this won’t be case-related?”

“No,” Hanzo says, exasperated, “it won’t be.”

She purses her lips and looks Jesse dead in the eyes. “Shoot.”

“Who was that text meant for?”

Her face drops slack, and all the colour drains from her face.

“No one,” she says quickly.

“Really, now?” drawls Jesse. 

“I reeeeeally hoped you would forget all about it,” she groans.

“It’s Satya, ain’t it?”

Fareeha goes unnervingly still. “Yeah,’ she mutters under her breath.

“Satya?” Hanzo squawks, completely surprised by this turn of events.

“Shhhh!” hisses Fareeha.

Hanzo gestures towards the empty backyard. “Who will overhear?”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I… I didn’t want anyone to know.”

Jesse looks at her questioningly.

Fareeha lets out a heavy sigh. “We’re just seeing each other at this stage. And I’m trying not to expect anything… even though I would like something more, but, you know… what kind of non-human would want to date a hunter?”

“You would be surprised,” Hanzo says playfully.

“But you’re a weird exception!” Fareeha blurts. She looks as if she regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth. “Sorry.”

Hanzo waves his hand lazily with a crooked smile. “No offense taken. And for what it’s worth, I do not think Satya minds at all that you are a hunter. And I think you need to give yourself more credit; you’re very enjoyable to be around.”

Jesse doesn’t offer any gentle words of reassurance. “I would say just tell her outright how you feel.”

Fareeha blanches. “Jesse, no-!”

“Hey, now. Satya’s a very logical and straightforward person. I think she’d really appreciate it if you were upfront and explained how you feel.”

Fareeha looks aggressively at her feet. “I mean… you’re not wrong. She would appreciate that. But I’m a chicken, and I can’t-”

“Nope, I’m not acceptin’ that,” Jesse says flatly. Hanzo nudges him firmly and shoots him a warning looks, but Jesse doesn’t even flinch. “Hey, trust me here; I know when Pharah needs a gentle push, versus a hard shove, and this is definitely a hard shove moment.”

“You’re a butt head,” Fareeha murmurs. But she’s lost that helpless look, and her expression is more determined now, despite the fact that that expression is directed at her feet.

“…so you’ll tell her?” Jesse asks playfully.

“I think I need to,” she says. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get through the next year if I keep that in, or if I keep Satya at a distance.”

Jesse rests his hand on his chin emphatically and looks up at Fareeha with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Oh, shut up,” she chuckles.

“I didn’t say anythin’!” he cries, faux incredulous. ‘Now head on home before yer ma worries about you.”

Fareeha huffs. “She’s my mother; she’s always worrying about me.”

“True,” Jesse says with a smile.

Fareeha takes her leave, and the two of them remain outside. 

Jesse lets out a heavy sigh. “This next year’s gonna pass real slow.”

Hanzo looks at his precious hunter, and moves to sit next to him. He runs a hand through Jesse’s hair, rubbing his scalp gently with his claws. Jesse’s posture relaxes slowly.

“Perhaps,” he says softly. But he knows it won’t; the last few months of his life with Jesse had gone by in a blur. And with the Reaper to look out for, plus any other cases they might be assigned, he knows the next year will pass in the blink of an eye.

But he doesn’t focus on that right now; his attention is in the present, where he is spending a quiet moment with the man he loves.


	16. Epilogue: Paper Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting this last chapter out today was my birthday present to myself hehehe :p

Deep in the desert, there are many hidden man-made secrets. There are bunkers that were built in times of war; there are laboratory facilities hidden deep underground; and there also exists an underground facility that acts as a barracks for the Mid-Western branch of Talon’s American constituent. 

Gabriel Reyes finds himself in this bunker, called in for a medical appointment with Talon’s expert in death magic. He trudges towards her medbay, fully armed and armoured. 

He rounds a corner and heads deeper into the base. He’s surprised that after his failure that he’s even allowed back onto any Talon premises. 

As he travels, he walks passed groups of soldiers; hundreds of the same sinister mask, the same wide-set body shapes, the same minimal armour plating. They stand and chat, or patrol with a friend, or simply read news and mission reports on data pads. These operatives are the cannon-fodder – it makes sense they’d be the ones allowed to keep their minds. 

When he gets deeper and starts walking passed the specialists, he notices more robotic and empty behaviours. More variety in armour type and body shape. They make what’s left of his skin crawl.

When he arrives at the medbay, the tall witch is waiting for him. 

“You’re late,” she says clinically.

Gabriel glances at the antique clock on her wall; he’s only one minute late. 

“Will I need to make another appointment, then?” he asks dryly. 

Moira shakes her head as she turns her slim frame to face him. “Take a seat.”

He sits through ten minutes of testing and prodding before Moira treats him with her death magic; the same magic that helped him maintain a solid form when he first sought Talon out. 

Instead of a staff, she wears arm bracers with different woods and metals that act as conduits for her magic. Her bracers are almost always hidden underneath her long and draping robe sleeves. And the rest of her robes are almost always hidden under armour plating. 

Moira cuts off her magic suddenly. “Shift only your hand,” she orders. He tries, and it dissipates for a solid ten seconds before solidifying again.

“Damn!” she snaps. She grabs his hand firmly, pressing his palm aggressively with her slender thumbs. “You say this was the healing magic of Angela Ziegler?”

“Yes,” he replies simply.

“This is something of hers I’ve not seen before.”

“You said you’d worked with her in the past?”

“A very long time ago.”

Reaper tilts his head, asking the unsaid question: exactly how long ago?

“You don’t want to know,” is all she’ll say. 

She straightens and clears her throat before she addresses him again. “Your voluntary control over your forms is growing stronger. And given that you’ve been suspended from further missions, you should have plenty of time to rest and eat well. I would recommend human souls over those of animals; you need all the energy you can get to return to your previous level on control.”

She watches him with her mismatched eyes. _Heterochromia,_ Reaper thinks. _One percent prevalence in humans, ten percent prevalence in werewolves, four percent prevalence-_

“Your mind is wandering again,” Moira announces. 

He turns away with a dismissive grunt and leaves her medbay. _On the contrary,_ he thinks, _my mind has been much clearer since Mercy’s healing magic._ The death magic had allowed him control over physical and non-corporeal forms, but it had left him forgetful and scared, which meant a lot of aggression and lashing out. But since the Panorama, he’s remembering things more easily and more frequently.

Shame it’s all useless information, like heterochromia prevalence. 

At least he remembers where Sombra is stationed in the Mid-Western barracks. That’s where he heads next. 

When he reaches the computer engineering room, the door is wide open. He hears no voices, but the tell-tale signs of Sombra’s enhanced nails drawing up schematics. He walks right in. 

“Did you file the report?” he says by way of greeting. 

She sighs like a teenager. “Of course,” she says with an eye roll.

“Any ‘feedback’ yet?”

“Nah.” She swivels her chair to face him. “But I’m guessing it’ll be the same old ‘try harder next time’.”

“Were you suspended as well?”

“Pffft! Can’t really call it a suspension when they stick you on a recon mission anyways.”

That’s right; they had intel to gather from a seedy bar. He supposes it’s its own form of punishment. 

“When are we leaving?”

“2200.”

Leaving to head to a bar at 10pm? That’s hours from now, and he’s already done for the night. He watches Sombra, alert and lively, and sighs; he feeling far older than his 58 years. 

Sombra snorts without looking back at him. “Is that passed your bedtime, _viejo?”_

He grunts, then leaves the room, heading back to his quarters. He’ll pass the time dismantling and cleaning then reassembling his shotguns.

When recon time rolls around, Gabriel had pulled apart and reassembled his shotguns three times each, he had consumed 2 mugs of coffee, and he had catalogued a large number of crates in the storage room. 

That’s where Sombra finds him; she appears in a flash of purple light, leaning against an uncatalogued crate with a knowing smirk. “I knew I’d find you here.”

Reaper looks up at the security camera in the corner. Sombra scoffs.

“I didn’t need to check the security feed to know where you’d be.”

He lets out a gravely sigh. “Time to go, then?”

“Yup. Transport leaves in 10. _Apúrate, viejo.”_

Gabriel doesn’t even dignify that with a grunt. Instead, he waits for Sombra to leave before heading out of the storage room and into the garage where he keeps the few belongings he has left. He doesn’t have personal quarters anymore; that’s what happens when you go from Talon agent to mercenary-for-hire. But it was a necessary step for his long-term plan.

He collects a change of clothes and a large duffel bag, hides the remainder of his things in a corner the cameras can’t see, then waits for Sombra to arrive. As usual, she makes a showy entrance, appearing in a flash of light with a flick of her hair. 

A faceless grunt in elite armour shows them to a compact SUV, then drives them to their location. They’re dropped off two blocks away in a dirty alleyway.

They both methodically remove all of their Talon equipment from their bodies – including their comms and GPS trackers. When it’s all deactivated and stuffed in the bottom of a bag, the two of them change out of their mercenary clothes: Sombra changes into ripped jeans and a showy jacket with too many clashing colours because she is completely incapable of blending in with civilians given that she has a shaved head and computer implants. Gabriel changes into a hooded black singlet and simple straight legged jeans.

He can wear open sleeves now; before Mercy’s healing zap, his bare skin would emanate a steady stream of smoke. Now that it’s only the slightest amount, it isn’t noticeable unless you know to look for it. 

Unfortunately, his eyes and face remain rotted and greyed, so he covers the lower half of his face with a dark checked bandana, and covers his eyes with dark sunglasses. 

They leave the bag filled with their Talon gear behind a dumpster, and from there, they walk to The Lone Ranger. Its wooden exterior is dirty and sad, dusted with bullet holes and circular burns where patrons put out their cigarettes. 

Gabriel had seen worse, and based on the gang Sombra used to run with, so had she. They both walk through the doors without any reservations. 

They both order strong cheap drinks and take a seat in a booth towards the back of the venue. He glances around the bar to assess their surroundings: drunkards, gang members, and dangerous people threatening and swearing at anyone who gets too close to them. 

“I don’t see any back rooms,” Sombra mutters into her drink. “Unless deals go down in the bathroom.”

Gabriel agrees with her assessment; this doesn’t seem the place for any kind of high-end trades or deals. Perhaps some recruits can be found, but Gabriel will leave that decision up to those with a higher pay grade. 

_Some recruits they’ll be,_ he thinks to himself, _all violent temper and no discipline._ Even the cannon-fodder needed some degree of loyalty. These human beings seemed completely devoid of any ability to be productive in any capacity. 

Gabriel hears Moira’s voice very clearly in his head: _I would recommend human souls over those of animals._ Perhaps this could be a win-win situation; he gets extra recovery strength from consuming human souls, and the world has fewer violent assholes in it. 

Moira’s voice is quickly replaced by Jesse’s voice: _I won’t give up on you, boss. Not now, not ever._ It reminds him of his end game, and of the fact that he can achieve it without any more blood on his hands.

“You’re thinking real hard,” Sombra purrs, looking down at her drink. 

Gabriel dismisses her with a quick grunt, but she doesn’t drop the subject.

“We got no wires, Gabe. Talk to me about phase three of your master plan.”

He faces her now, and watches her expression closely. He concludes that she’ll never not look cocky and conceited, and deciphering her face and her voice is always a useless endeavour. He observes her body language instead; she’s leaning slightly forward with her fingers resting lightly on her glass. It’s a lot more inviting than her usual posture; folded arms and leaning away. 

Sombra seems to decide that he’s been silent too long, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Look, someone has to be ready when all your careful planning doesn’t pan out.” She offers him a mischievous smile. “No wires, remember?”

He doesn’t know if she’s always seen through the Reaper persona, or if she’s just brazen and contrary with everyone. He think he hears a level of softness in her tone, but he can’t be sure; his mind had been an absolute mess for the past 6 years. 

He chooses to get answers by asking outright:

“Why help me?”

“Because it suits me at this point in time.”

Gabriel pouts disbelievingly, furrowing his brow. “Dismantling the organisation that pays and protects you?”

“I don’t like being tied down.” She sits back in her chair with a cocky posture, and sips at her drink smugly. “That’s your end game, too, _cierto?”_ she asks, with the air of someone who asks a question they already know the answer to.

“And you?” Gabriel retorts, “What’s your end game?”

“Whatever gets me the furthest!” she laughs. She then shifts her attention to her absurdly long nails. “No ties, no loyalties. Only rely on yourself.”

Gabriel will never understand her; for someone who speaks of no ties and no loyalties, she sure is going out of her way to help him specifically. 

She elbows him. “C’mon! What’s phase three?”

“Making sure I don’t get caught sabotaging.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Which is where you come in.”

“Hah! Too easy! What else do you need?”

“That’s all I need for phase three.”

Sombra rolls her eyes again. “Ay, Gabe. Don’t you have anything more challenging?”

“Not until phase four.”

She props her face on her hand dramatically. “And you won’t give me details on the next phase until the previous one’s complete?”

Gabriel gives her a slow nod, and she huffs. She passes the remainder of their requisite time in the bar pestering Gabriel with all sorts of questions, from details about his role in phase three, to what he really thinks about the Widowmaker (“Do you think she’s _really_ French, or did they program her to speak with that accent?”).

When it’s time, they leave, redress in their Talon equipment, climb into the transport, and return to base.

He lingers in the garage, and Sombra pesters him with a few more questions (innocuous, but inane nonetheless) before she leaves him to it. 

Gabriel waits for her to be long gone before he drops into a squat and places his face in his hands. 

His mind goes back to a tidy alleyway in Dorado, Mexico. To Jesse holding him as if he’d disappear into smoke again. To that fearful sob right in his ear. 

His ultimate end game is to obviously destroy Talon, both for his freedom, and to protect the world from their tyranny. But after seeing Jesse in the flesh after all those years… he just can’t let Jesse down again. This is a mission that he has to pull off successfully.

Whatever happens in the next year, he’ll be flying, albeit on paper wings; delicate things that are likely to tear or go up in flames. But flying is always better than sinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of part 4. Thanks to everyone who left kudos, whether you've been reading along since I shared part 1, or if you've just binged the last four parts recently, I really appreciate all of it ♥
> 
> And a special thanks to the dead set legends who always leave lovely comments for me to read (and re-read when I'm having a bum day) -- you're heckin amazing and I love you!
> 
> Part 5 is being mushed together, but it's sitting on the back burner so I can focus on my next major undertaking: frickin' **Dragon Age: Origins McHanzo AU** :D
> 
> Once again, thanks for all the support! If you'd like to send me asks about this AU, shoot me some asks on my tumblr: Winterartstuff. Until next time, take care and stay awesome ♥♥♥


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